I spend my days dancing in the shades;

I make my living from the lust of rage.

I feel most at home when my soul’s crying ink,

And my best thoughts come when I don’t think.

My mind lives far off–above the clouds,

Catching stories for me to shout.

When I’m alone, my pen races best,

And when in a crowd, my soul loudly protests.

The life of a writer is lonely, and yet,

I’ve learned one lesson I’ll never forget:

A writer, herself, is never alone

Surrounded by worlds that are all her own.

Copyright Sarah Davidson 2021