The Writing
A writer's life is to denyThe end is where you go
She doesn't tell what she makes up
No one should ever know
She sometimes says she has a pen
She rarely ever does
She knows what time to say what, when
She knew what never was
A timer's aim is to tell time
A writer keeps it still
A daughter's son forgets a birth
A writer never will
The sky blames no one for the sun
It is what is written
No father wishes for a son
Who writes because it's sin
Labels: Emily Dickenson
Post a Comment