Imagined Words

When I was young
I used the write stories and poetry
In my head.

Too quick for pen and paper
The stories unfolded before my mind’s eye,
Like drops of rain I could try
To catch them,
But surely I would miss too many to try,

I would lie in bed
With words my dreams,
With words the sheep I would count,
But surely with such tales on play
There was no way rest I would take

I would imagine the words
Being spoken from my mouth,
The thought of the sound of my own voice,
Catching and releasing the words from my lips,
And yet not a noise would be made.

When I was young
I was a dreamer,
An artist,
A dream artist,
Painting mental pictures
Of the imagined works
of this poetess.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s