First published Sept 15, 2006

“We write, in part, the words we need to read.“
…. Rebecca McClanahan, Write Your Heart Out

My words are my children,
nurtured from conception to maturity,
from thought to page.
They are what (all) I have to leave behind,
to let someone know I was here.
The mark I leave.
One proof of my life’s worth.
They talk back to me, make me laugh.
They explain me, comfort me, as I grow old.