Journeying spell,
Inspiration of sparkles.
Yester-bewilderment,
Dazing away;
Childhood passed me by.
Seventeen,
Left out of the lifetime of teens.
English course of three with the three,
Averaging grade D.
High school into the three years,
Dropping out into the military rank.
Books never called my name.
Poetry was afar voyage dream.
Writing,
Me?
Editing,
Please!
Now where do I stand?
Words used to mocked and thrown stones at me,
Now in one command waving the pen,
Magic,
They are within.
Once a friend of mine asked me a simple question.
Amused at the "How?"
I see.
Writings on the heart's stage of the inner being.
Than times I speaked to the mirror-man,
Smiling,
"Who me?"
"God, there must be!"
And a reminder from looking up,
"You can run, but you can never hide from the penmanship inside of..."
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