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The Flow

I’m addicted to the flow.

The page, white as snow,

Beckons me.

Stories must be told,

The words felt in bold.

I want to break the mold,

And write my own destiny.


There’s no greater joy in the world,

Than when a scene begins to unfurl.

The place comes alive, and I set myself aside

To tell the tales within.

I only have to begin,

And the words start to flow

Onto that page, white as snow.

But no matter

When or where I go,

I know,

I’d rather

Write for me

Than write for show.


Written for Fandango’s Dog Days of August, #12 – ‘Joy

7 thoughts on “The Flow

  1. Pingback: Spoiled for Choice

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