Often I have thought submitting poetry is a secretive divulging of the authors diary. That thought has brought me to this prose.
Photo courtesy Roberta Baxter. White water in Glacier National Park West Glacier, Montana
Someday I will be known for the words I do pen
Maybe not in my life, really don’t know when.
My hurt, my loves, all I want and willingly share
They all come on the screen, then remain right there.
Not every day, nor every week and not in a year
My heart is emptied, then filled up with all that is sincere.
Releasing my words so they leave my mind and then my heart
Keeps me rewriting, recomposing as if it is only the start.
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