Why I Write

A Poem

I write when I am happy The words flow unto the page in contented glee I write when I am outraged The words flow in staccato, sharp bites I write when I am melancholy The words flow slowly, drifting in thick fog

I write when the characters speak to me Their story not yet told As they clamor for a hearing Deciding on the path they will take Despite the scribes’ misgivings

I write In the dark of night when there is no moonglow I write When the sun is shining, and I should be out playing I write When the Muse is on retreat I write When the Muse whispers in my ear

I write As breath is to life There is nothing else

In response to Warren Brown prompt, “Why I write because…”