each day
the whetstone.
a writer,
the words.
pen to paper;
fingertips to keys
wrists see
*
who visits my dreams
tugs at my ankles, ruffles my hem
I do not know why, for whom
I write this
corseted
record
*
Hell yes!
***
Okay, so it’s not a real mash-up, but a twinkly-style mash-up and that’s how I roll….
twinklysparkles 