Seeing a story
In every board
I hoard
Love affairs in my mind
With a builder fine
Who probably thinks
I'm crazy
Probably lazy
Or doesn't think of me at all
Just building
As I play a guitar song
Out on my front porch
By the red and white
Roses
Know I want you
Rolling in a fantasy
Of you and me
Sweat set free
On some cool white sheets
To the beat of a country song
To be a writer
Will bring it on
On paper
As he builds
A house---I want him
Wonder if my music
Will haunt him
If I play
Day after day
If you're a writer
It's that way
And you don't want to forget
The pen and paper
Don't want to taper
Any of it
Even when
An oil lamp is
All that's lit
In this room
I will leave
How I will grieve
You'll still build
While I'll move on
You will always be here
Because I'm writer
And you're my song
Today
Where if I had way
We'd be much more
We'd be touch more
Spinning swirling twirling
I would never forget you
A builder outside my window working
When you're a writer
Words are lurking
To be put down
Pen to paper sound
Timed and dated
When you're a writer
You've not hesitated
To start jotting
Until pens worn out
Are clotting
Up with ink
When you're a writer
A writer's usually on the brink
Of desire
Words on fire
If you're a writer.
