Writer

I knew what I wanted to be as a teenager, when I grew up. I knew it in Grade One when I wrote my first story.

I wanted to be a writer.

What I did not know than, there is no wanting to be a writer, it is who I am.

***I wrote this while I was writing a journal entry. I had goose bumps when I realized the validity of that statement.****

Him

I see you looking

when you think I am not;

side glances

beneath your lashes.

I see you wanting,

needing the comfort I provide.

Yet I do not know

how to offer it without offense.

I see you needing

the love that I hide

because I am not sure

that what I feel is right.

You appear so strong,

so able.

And I know that you want to appear

as though it is easy.

I know how much you struggle.

I know how much you care.

I know how much you long

for that someone to hold you,

to tell you that things will work themselves out.

I want to be him.

I want to hold you tight.

I want to hold you close……

I want to melt winter’s embrace.

 ©Jay-lyn Doerksen

November 7/17