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I always admired him
His words captured my attention
Sometimes I didn’t understand them
But the passion in those words
Told me more than he knew.
The excitement he had
The fire in his eyes when he shared his dreams
It brought me inspiration
His pen is silent now
And a fear creeps into me
He wrote to free his mind
And at times to regain sanity
I wonder now how he keeps his mind
from shattering
His passion and abstract daydreams
A writer only puts down his pen
When they have given up on living.
B.J.H.
03-12-2012
