God Forbid

My life is very insular, I move from page to page never straying far from words which prance upon the written stage. like a sputtering engine my tongue tangles on a phrase I rub my eyes, red and raw, I can't remove my aged gaze. My fingers curl and knuckles gnarl as velum dances right I read, I write, I think and pause, I can't turn out the light. Compose, I will, adjust I must, each simile an anchor to a life much analyzed, but lived with little rancor. like the scribes of ancient Rome my fingertips are worn yet I persist with joyous bliss for I know I must go on. My form has bent, bowed and curled to meet the need of the word God forbid, I went through this lifetime never being heard.