I have always been a fan of Anita’s writing, her wonderful books, and her incredible poetry, so this is what I am posting today.
This week has left me drained, I have been so busy, what with catching up on all the chores that didn’t get done thanks to me being on retreat, locked in my office. And I have managed to get a lot more writing done too, as the muse decided to hang around and nag me. Not complaining, mind you, but couldn’t think of a better way to end the week.
As long as I can hold a pen I will write the stories I am sent They are children running free In fields inside my head. Easy you say. Pin one down Write what's said They do not come fully formed my friend They need a few words from me to help them run A violent ending or happy Is theirs to tell I wait impatiently for every word Surprised at times at what is said They were no more than bones Inside my head Now flesh has formed If they could walk from the pages They would fit in our world As easily as you or me Those some I say, should not Share the air we breathe… ©anitadawes 2020