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