I prefer to be dead before I stop writing,
it is something no one can take away,
it is the one thing that keeps me sane,
I prefer to die if it is taken away.
I have written words in the night sky,
words that flirt with the stars and
dance with the moon that smiles shyly,
and those words have come back to me with joy.
I have written the waters that swim
in the rivers; named their existence,
embodied their force with my phrases.
I have formed landscapes with my pen.
I have written and my letters have
painted the patterns on a dragonfly’s wings
and they have traveled with them
bringing messages back to me from their journey.
I have written the birth of a sigh,
the commence of a whisper, the intention of a hug.
I have written the clouds in golds, lilacs and scarlets;
I have dressed them with elegance.
And I have written about kisses
that tip toe through the nights
and share their love with awaiting lips
igniting passion with a brush of skin.
And I have written that I am loved,
and that my love lives in the words I write,
and I am eclipsed by his presence,
therefore I shall die if I stop writing.