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!