WRITER/BOOKS/SUCCESS
They Say It’s Just a Book
Turning phrases
I clutched the book,
it was still warm,
maybe because
it traveled across the Atlantic
in the back of the ship —
a space ship,
couriered
first for my approval,
I looked at it;
a piece of me, but not really of me
since the words and the messages
flowed right through me
I was empty.
Now
full of energy,
excitement brimming from this everlasting fountain
I present to you,
The Sun,
Shining on my Face
How much longer do I hide my light under the bushel
cowering quietly in fear of succeeding
and not knowing how I did it;
while continuing
to store talent in dusty attics
promising one day soon,
to unveil for public persecution
what lies inside
the corridors of my mind.
D-day has arrived.
and, with my flag flying at half mast
I mourn the loss of cowardly me,
as I
make way for the sun to shine.
