The Write Poem by Therese Garcia

This flow I follow with my hand
At times I stop, to heed demands I fear this gift, I've since discovered
Will leave my hand, I lose recover But when I sit, and concentrate
The flow returns, this destined fate The time may come, I lose my sight
To relay the message, of, "rights," and "mights" And if that day should come to end
New gifts of life, will sure begin Each change, each phase, of life I enter
Right to the limit, the lord does enter I cannot fuss, the loss this gift
The time, its use may be too swift So while I can, I will do write
How long it lasts, termed other might.