If were a writer
If I were a writer with a pen in my hand,
I’d write you the story of life.
I’d let sentiment flow from the tip of my pen
And unearth the soul of the strife.
I’d write the story of friends in confinement,
And one sided yearning desire;
I’d write all the things I couldn’t speak out
And place them as coals in the fire.
If I were a writer with a pen in my hand,
I’d write the one story of truth.
The one that is clear, and the one kept inside,
And the one that still stays aloof.
I’d write of the things that I wished for,
I’d find courage and word the whole lot;
And I’d finish the story with my own happy ending,
Whether it be so, or not.
If I were a writer with a pen in my hand,
I’d paraphrase my heart.
I’d begin the first chapter on a clean white page
And let reality fall apart.
I’d tell the world how hope, like rain,
Can nourish form above;
And I’d write the story of a boy and a girl,
And their longing
And their love.
ashleigh butcher.
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