More To Me Than Air
Since
I lost all those I love
even my little baby prince
to that heavenly place above,
my writing is my life and all;
from a dark pit I had to crawl
it took me from a vast ghost land,
my sweet MUSE took me by the hand,
now, in serenity I stand.
My writing is my life and all;
from a dark pit I had to crawl.
I pen words from a wounded soul,
my writing giving me release;
from inner talk that wants control,
words take me to a place of peace.
Writing is like breathing fresh air,
my words let me lay my soul bare.
Dark death I push away,
in lush green fields I lay;
yes, writing means more to me - since.
______________________
June 18, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/More to Me Than Air
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1157-640-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Poem of the Day - June 19, 2019
Written for the contest, More To Me
sponsor, William Kekaula
Fourth Place
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