When I glide my pen over paper

I sow seeds of a new world.

A world that grows with every stroke of ink

& is filled with forts of fame and spas of spring.

I sketch all its people who

further darken my white canvas.

People with hearts of glass & nerves of gold

and skin that is blindingly lustrous.

A pull my thread of thoughts through

creativity's needle to tailor my plot.

To embroider it with twists and foreshadows

and tie it all together with the ending's knot.

When I glide my pen over paper,

my thoughts are the muse of my words.

Words that circulate in my brain until

they've been transformed into paper worlds.