From my Facebook page,
I have a box of poetry in my closet. Spiral rings, legal pads and yellowed pieces of loose leaf chronicling the paths of life. Dreams and disappointments, love and loss, past and future, all written in tiny snippets carved from the day to day that eats time like candy.
Amid the turmoil of kids and work and figuring out the art of survival a spark of creativity burned in a place I'd almost forgotten. I had stories to tell and blank pages that craved the touch of words.
I found that place in retirement when the world stops to catch a breath and time becomes an enemy as well as a friend. That spark roared to life and however long it burns, I will write