They say writing is the purest form
of communicating with yourself ,
so why do people shy from doing it?
Why do others use so many distractions
to hide, from facing what’s in their mind?
From what I gather; I’d love to chat with Hemingway,
or listen to Steinbeck ramble after a third pint,
or discuss hope with Maya Angelou, read the lost
journals of H.G Wells, and sing along with Mathew
as he jots down parables.
But at this time,
as I write,
I’m happy to know I’m not boring,
and could talk to myself everyday.