We’re the writers of today,
creating words and taking apart.
We push and pull the soul,
Composing symphonies of the heart.
Maybe we’d be historians,
but we write it as we see.
Call it artistic privilege.
And that’s OK with you and me.
Some would say we’re lazy
But we’re just artistic at heart.
We lay, reflect, and think
to piece together verbal art.
We’re molders, potters of speech
for a purpose, but sometimes not.
But, if we’ve learned nothing else,
It’s to write while the pen is hot!