Perspective through Crayons, Pencils and Pens

God handed me a Gift with Crayons and that’s where Words began.
Upside-down letters, and colorful pictures of a wonderful blend.

School began with Left-Handed writing; Pencil lead and red eraser smears.
The teacher tried to change me; my Mom simply said, ‘no way’;
here I am, a Lefty, with long-forgotten tears.

Pens became my friends; some were best and some were not.
I prefer that ink flows smoothly and dries without a blot.

Millions of words were written from a slow to maddening pace.
Some words were hard to give away; gone by the choice to erase.

My way of writing changed, as drastic as the time.
Poems written on gift paper or notepads with a rush to spill the rhyme.

I left Poems in boxes and binders, to search for later like gold in a mine.
It was an archeological dig to get all the Poems combined.

Thousands of thoughts have crowded, then spilled from deep inside.
A stash of Dreams once Pondered; set free to no longer hide.

Afraid? You bet. For we all wear different shades.
I thought of roads that blocked me, and dreamed of a paper parade.

Once I took the time to scurry and discover;
now I’m healed and stronger from the heartbreak of too many lovers.

I wrote of seasons and fear of death;
I swallowed reality and spilled out my breath.

Here I sit, upon a hillside looking down.
When will this story end and will I be around?

Do I pick a day or deadline to never write a word again?
I tried it once, and felt as though I lost my closest friend.

For Pen upon the Paper from one to another Book;
it is a life worth reminiscing as I take a second look.

Yet many things were sacrificed along this lifelong journey.
We’re talking years of exploration into Love and Loss and Yearning.

But here I am in Pajamas, far away from Fantasy.
I Write of Age with Honesty and what it’s done to me.

I’ve shared this Life of Mystery, between Twists of Love and Rhyme;
along these Roads I Traveled, I never Colored Within the Lines.