scribbling his muse across acres of paper
words tumbling forth, hastening as years speed by
to leave a desperate mark, before his span is done
Not, for monetary gain or fame
although some do
but, rather for art or hobbies sake
one day perhaps?
To see a line or two
of his thoughts, hopes, desires, dark imaginings
appear in fine print
to show his friends
or leave to children's children
and by so doing prove
he also lived, and life was not a dream...