My Life Depends On Writing
When cold winds blow
I turn to the page
blank and waiting
to become something more.
I write verse and prose
while the world
goes on without me.
I am the sun
and the meadow
on a winter day
while outside
a fall of snow.
The one I once knew
is a vision
my guiding light
s story and verse
while I must tell
others and others alike
that love never dies.
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