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Writer
December 6, 2021
I’ve always been
A writer,
From the day my
Dark eyes opened
And they knew the world,
A whirl of shapes and hues and words,
So many words
As endless as
The speckled sky.
I’ve always been
A writer,
Long before
My fingers found a pen.
Somehow, my life
Was made of words,
Before I spoke,
Before I wrote,
Before I understood the song,
The symphony of sounds.
I’ve always been
A writer,
And when stubby pencil
Hit cloud white, it
Was my home,
Unknown to me.
Even with no page,
Just eyes and mind,
I’ve always been
A writer.
© Anonymous
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This is my first post on this site, so I thought it was fitting to make it one about what writing means to me. Authenticity is incredibly important to me, and I find ways to be real with myself and the rest of the world in my writing. Poetry, songs, and stories are and have always been a part of who I am.