Tag: <span>Writing</span>

male Writer sitting outside in a chair as morning light breaks over the horizon. Old fasion street lamps line the road, still flickering along the sidewalk of a tree lined residential neighborhood Writings

5:55 am – Am I a writer?

I had a coworker tell me I should be a writer this last week.
When I woke up too darn early, I gave it a try.

There’s something peaceful about the morning.
As I walk out, the sun is yet to rise.
The light seeps over the edge of the Horizon, illuminating the skies.

It’s quiet outside. You hear crickets, not yet birds.
The sounds of neighboring air conditioners whirs.
Along the street the lights are still on.

I stand here,
with the grass between my toes wondering about my daily woes.
The challenges I’ll face.

The joy and excitement of Grace.
Ha, Grace… I’ll need that again today.
I wonder if I’ll get it all done.
everything that i need to do, or think I need to…
Will I spend enough time with my kids?

There’s so much left to accomplish.

But my thoughts, they wander,
wandering…

to the events of the past week
and to what will happen in the week ahead.


Is there enough time in the day to get the job done?
Will, I have to do it all alone.
Or will I be able to find some help? Or can they help?

As I put my thoughts on paper, Is it even paper anymore? I wonder if they are safe there.
Can I say what, what I’m thinking out loud?
Are the thoughts that are racing through my head too much for me, or others to bear,
would I be thought crazy if I was to share… share what’s going on inside my head.
Probably not.

But most are the thoughts of things that might be, things to do and things to see.
Not, of things that could have been.
So I guess there’s at least some positive spin.

The porch lights turn off, dogs (and their owners) begin their morning walks.
Now the birds awake, they start to sing,
I wonder what the day will bring.

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