With pen in hand, I take to write
that which unveils through inner sight.
A spark of memory intertwined with past,
and hope the pen will make it last.
When first to touch upon the sheet,
it clears the webs through visions sweet.
Soon, thoughts do dance in proper disorder,
extending their distance between margin borders.
Making revisions to each bit of copy:
keeping the groomed, and discarding the sloppy.
Soon there it is… for all now to read,
that which I lived, and relive at thought speed.
© JW Thomas