We All write what we write,

Sometimes to fill a void.

Sometimes out of need,

Sometimes our heart bleeds.

Something stirs inside

Sometimes like a single seed

Steadily growing so slowly

Before picking up speed

I have to confess

All of the above is me

Than again here's the rub

To some I may appear simple 

I write what I write out of love 

Not as some may think of me

Because of my love of symmetry

Or for my love of reading poetry 

You may find this a little trite 

I love to share and read poetry 

That myself and others write

Writing has given me another life