By Wayne Visser

Turning over the leaf,
You peer underneath,
Perhaps in search of a clue
As to why, on this day,
And why, in this way,
I’m writing a letter to you.
Well, that’s a good question,
Which I’ll try to answer
By telling it straight and true.
You see, since I was eight
(So maybe it’s fate)
This writing is just what I do.
It seems strange to say it,
But in life, as I play it,
Words have helped me get through.
They help me unravel
The road that I travel;
The mysteries of where, why and who.
It’s the writing that moulds,
As the story unfolds,
New lessons to bite off and chew.
There is power in words
That we choose to concoct
In a magical alphabet brew.
Now, I’m no magician,
But I’ve a strong intuition
That words cast a spell on you too.

Wayne Visser © 2015



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