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Sunday, Just Typing Now

It's Sunday, and I just want to rest. Still I'm sitting here typing of the gift that I'm blessed. Words so swift I'm obsessed. With this gift I'm caressed. Sitting writing them all until there aren't any left. When my life is a mess, it gets better when I write. I type words at day and I dream I do at night. Always writing or scribbling down, some words that are in me now, no words can bring me down, what's worse begins to bow down to my writing and it gets better and better. The words too delighting, they set the type with each letter. Each font a face. Each form a grace. Each noun a new round to stock and place. When my life is a mess, it gets better when I write, it gets better alright, until everything is alright. Yeah. :)

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