If someone was to asked me,
why do you write?
I wouldn’t be able to answer them,
because quite frankly I just don’t know.
I just pick up a pen and paper,
and then the words come tumbling out,
and when I have finished,
I ask myself was that really me?
That is one of the reasons,
I never question what I do,
because there would never be an answer,
at least not the one I’m looking for.
nothing can be truer than this...when i look back, though that happens very rare, i invariably think, it's by some body else. it's a perpetual wonder how everything comes as if pre-arranged!
Me too, no idea where they come from or why, but it is a privilege to be able to watch it happen. Hope you are feeling much better now? love from David
Yes why do we write, maybe it's because it lifts us, out of the crowd... something that makes us proud... David..10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Even if its not the one you're looking for, just go ahead, David and write! we love you hugs, Meggie