Why? By CpSingleton © 2014
Why do I Write?
Why have I always written?
I look back along the timeline of
My short, swift life,
Stopping at various points to
Examine my hands.
In-between moments of pretending to be:
A chef or rigger,
A salesman or team leader,
A fryer or check-out singer and
Even pretending to be an actor…
There has always been a crayon,
A pen or notebook grasped
Like inca gold.
Whether I was a speeding mess,
Hunched over a pad.
A lolly-pop man of
Wishing for a princess to
Kick in the battered door and
Take me in her arms. Or
A small child, cold in a larder.
The damp running down the walls,
The spiders scuttling under
The fragile camp-bed.
My hot breath crashing the cold party,
Creating plumes of white cloud that
Floated to the cracked paint
Above my fascinated…
View original post 431 more words