Writing for myself


No one cares when I write, nor do they much care why.

Because of this, I write for myself, which I will do ’til the day I die.

It wasn’t me who chose to write!  Writing has chosen me.

As I quietly sat in my chair, words mysteriously came to be.

The words then grew into sentences, (which surprised me at the time!)

Before I knew it, I had my pen in hand, writing sentences ending in rhyme.

I really don’t know how this happens, nor why this is happening  to me.

I only know that it stirs my soul, so it must have been meant to be!

I often feel like a love sick girl, as these words flirt with me again and again.

My muse is certainly seductive, as I am encouraged to pick up my pen.

My keyboard goes clickity click, as my fingers dance over the keys.

I love to write my muse’s words, and they keep on coming to me!

My muse is the one who whispers to me, filling my mind with lovely thoughts.

I don’t think this mystery is going away, So, I will give it all I got!

Copyright (09/07/2015) Juanita J. Bussmann

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