Dust On Stand-by

In writing there is sanity
The world becomes a book
Perspective is put to pen
For all who choose to look

So carefully and so contrite
We write them down for those
Naked truth in black and white
That lie on papers to disclose

From alibis to recipes 
And lullabies to eulogies
Life’s non-compliance
Becomes self-help science

We need somehow to justify
That we’re just dust on stand-by
And make permanent ink
From what we feel and think

No wonder we’re all smitten
With fragile pages compiled
By authors who’ve written
Images that cried or smiled

We feel we can rest in peace
Only after we’ve left our mark
For even though we will cease
Our words still contain our spark

By: Kimarie Manhart-Freeman