I

Words are special –

I’ve always loved how they feel,

At the tip of my tongue,

Or as they course through the pages,

Of a touching novel,

For I love the stories they tell,

As a child,

Those stories were the fuel to ignite

My imaginative mind,

Those stories kept me awake at nights

Sometimes reading,

And at others, musing and exploring.

II

As time has flown on,

My love for words

Has outgrown

The confines of passivity,

That comes from reading,

Reflecting, and even exploring

The worlds I’ve read of,

In manifold stories.

No, my love has evolved –

It now roars,

With the flame of passion,

As it soars

Into oblivion,

And fetches words,

Strung together with the purpose

Of telling stories.

And so I’ve moved on,

From being lulled to sleep

By the warmth of a story,

To being awake at night,

By the faint light

Of the nightlamp,

Birthing a story,

My own story –

For I too, have one to tell.

Image Credit: Photo by Ylanite Koppens on StockSnap