Writing comes from a secret realm.
I close my eyes, pages fill.
Fantasy images arrive like wishes.
A genie bottle of treats,
treasures arise from a mystery well.
A passion to keep giving
as long as you believe.
Peter Pan and Mary Poppin's
words live in carpet bags and fly.
Float with an eloquent Mark Twain.
Time moves quickly, a magic hourglass,
amazing rainbow sands create illusions.
Serendipity blesses those who arrive.
Just lay your head on a fairy pillow,
adventures beneath whimsical blueberry skies.
Softly land in wild flowers,
a garden of literary joy,
books untouched by humans.
Door to innocence, special care,
new words; a virginal book fair.
Writing is joy given by God
gifts lay in wait for a reader.
Believers travel to uncharted lands.
Angels, dragons, fairies, and lovers.
Heroes, traitors; a ticket awaits, dear fan.