Oh how I long to be a writer
And sit in my garret all day with my typewriter
And live and speak and move
With my handcrafted
Hobnobs and snobs and fools
With drunks and pimps and murderers
Kings and queens and clowns
Postmen and pastors
Moms and Dads and grans
My world it would be mine
To shape and tweak to my design
All emotions would be there
Happiness fear and even despair
Sartorially it could be chic
With silks and satins and even batik
Jewels would drip and dangle
Repasts would be gourmet
Alas it is but a dream
So the creative juices must keep flowing
And my Muse I must trust to deliver inspiration
Heres to writers dedication