The Writer

My emotions are both sunshine and rain.

Two solitary hands contently composing in silence.

Intriguing passages replenish me like dreams before dawn.

Once written, they shall not die.

After a time, I begin to drift.

A lucid dream intrigues my soul.

My wrist softly brushes the keyboard.

If only I could capture it whole.

Pondering the trail of type left in my wake.

Merely a haphazard wall of cryptic meaning.

Nothing colorful drifts down over me.

Only polished shards of doubt.

Life’s bitter root.

Yet, I endure and move on, caressing keys under dim light.

Resolute in my calling to twist truth and craft lies.

Enticed by the charming scent of old ink on cracked wood.

C. Salyer

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