I long to be in a forest all alone, just to think and write.

I want to be in the quiet with music playing softly in the back ground of my thoughts, as I push the pen on the paper and watch as the letters fall onto the page like a waterfall of fantasy.

Once the page is soaked with letters, words, and paragraphs, I flip to the next and begin again.

With each stroke of the pen a destiny of a character is playing out in my head like a flowing stream.

It ends, like crashing from a high, but, all stories have to, then wonder starts over as a ripple of a idea peeks in my imagination. oh, I long to escape, I long to be at peace