I started as a draft
By an unseen master of the craft
A firm pencil on my page
Broken twice in creative rage
Each word made me whole
On an endlessly tilting scroll
I’m novel and made of will
A mercurial queen of quill
I begin again at the end
A book lover’s friend
Each chapter carries my heart
Between life’s bookends, I am art.
I read to taste life twice.
I write to channel imagination’s vice.
The words they flow, and stories they sew, leaving me in the grips of night.
As the pages by wind turn
Off the paper, love creates a burn
The hero becomes a villain while the air, bone-chilling, sends a shiver to the edge of the spine
From beginning to end
The chapters maliciously mend
Any trace of a shred, of who I was before bed, and wake me new in the morn.
Writer focused on fiction for middle-aged women with spunk
An Independent Non-Discriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
Kelly Rogers 