I know I'm almost 25, but I still feel so much alive.
I'm not quite ready to settle down to just one job, or just one town.
Ideas excite me and I know there are many directions I'd like to go.
I'd like to swing on a trapeze, or glide down fabric by my knees.
I want to learn to paint and cook, but most, I'd like to write a book.
I'll gather up amazing phrases, explaining things between the pages.
And some will laugh while others ask why I rhyme when I don't even try.
But the words will flow and my heart will soar, if only I could write some more.
If only I could spend my day in capturing what I'd like to say
I'd teach people to try things they couldn't have done, and the more that they read, the more they will have fun.
Oh, just to play for a moment or two with words and phrases as authors do!
But now I have to retire for the day. I hope tomorrow I'll find more sweet things I could say.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
I Can't Tell You How Much I Just Want To Write Right Now. . .
. . or maybe I can.
I just want to write.
I want to close my eyes and let the words just flow out of my fingertips.
Here goes:
That is the one advantage to typing over writing. As long as I don't think too hard about the letters themselves, I can type extremely well without peeking. I guess I didn't have to worry so much when I was in the Fourth grade typing class I took, it all turned out alright in the end.
I was recently reunited with a cd of mine called "rain's Musical massage". And as I sit here, I feel like I could almost will it to be the middle of summer and pouring rain right outside my cracked bedroom window. Just enough for the sound and smells to come pouring in over my face as I breathe in the clarity and the newness. The world turned quiet, the warm air mixing with cool water, the freshly cut grass and wet pavement.
I miss summer right now.
Summer still seems to hold on to it's childlike possibilities. Even though budgets and other adult things try to infringe upon its seemingly endless hours of hope and possibilites, Summer remains a time of exploration, of excitement, of trying new things and enjoying long afternoons of old things. Summer means time at home, inside the house or in the outdoors. Summer means warmth. Sun, oh and the break of summer on my shoulders and my cheeks, red with the season's first twinge of redness still radiating the heast off my cheeks.
All while the rain falls gently into puddles. And the thunder rolls over the blanketed sky, enfolding the flashes of light in with the air, thick like icecream for my lungs and face.
Hush, as the rain pulls me away from the worn-out day.
Breathe in the sweetness, as out flows the dry, fruitless air that once filled these lungs.
Wash away the worried, distracted self, seeking the aide and attention of the world. Let the soft rainfall dilute my thougts into droplets, that dissapate into the silence of the new earth. Clensed, peaceful and prepared for whatever may come tomorrow. Tomorrow, when the sunset and night will be just a passing memory, and the sunrise will bring hope, peace, renewal, and a fresh look at everything.
Tomorrow, Tomorrow I will find myself washed up on the shores of a new me. The sun will warm the moist air and illuminate the path one more step.
Tomorrow
can hardly wait to be
today.
I just want to write.
I want to close my eyes and let the words just flow out of my fingertips.
Here goes:
That is the one advantage to typing over writing. As long as I don't think too hard about the letters themselves, I can type extremely well without peeking. I guess I didn't have to worry so much when I was in the Fourth grade typing class I took, it all turned out alright in the end.
I was recently reunited with a cd of mine called "rain's Musical massage". And as I sit here, I feel like I could almost will it to be the middle of summer and pouring rain right outside my cracked bedroom window. Just enough for the sound and smells to come pouring in over my face as I breathe in the clarity and the newness. The world turned quiet, the warm air mixing with cool water, the freshly cut grass and wet pavement.
I miss summer right now.
Summer still seems to hold on to it's childlike possibilities. Even though budgets and other adult things try to infringe upon its seemingly endless hours of hope and possibilites, Summer remains a time of exploration, of excitement, of trying new things and enjoying long afternoons of old things. Summer means time at home, inside the house or in the outdoors. Summer means warmth. Sun, oh and the break of summer on my shoulders and my cheeks, red with the season's first twinge of redness still radiating the heast off my cheeks.
All while the rain falls gently into puddles. And the thunder rolls over the blanketed sky, enfolding the flashes of light in with the air, thick like icecream for my lungs and face.
Hush, as the rain pulls me away from the worn-out day.
Breathe in the sweetness, as out flows the dry, fruitless air that once filled these lungs.
Wash away the worried, distracted self, seeking the aide and attention of the world. Let the soft rainfall dilute my thougts into droplets, that dissapate into the silence of the new earth. Clensed, peaceful and prepared for whatever may come tomorrow. Tomorrow, when the sunset and night will be just a passing memory, and the sunrise will bring hope, peace, renewal, and a fresh look at everything.
Tomorrow, Tomorrow I will find myself washed up on the shores of a new me. The sun will warm the moist air and illuminate the path one more step.
Tomorrow
can hardly wait to be
today.
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