There are times when myself I find
Narrating my life’s mundane moments in my mind
I find myself describing my day
As if I am writing a chapter, in a way
That I would talk to readers (imaginary)
In language and style I perceive as literary..
*
I do not yet have a story to tell
But there are audacious dreams that dwell
Within the depths of my innermost desires
The urge to write something burns like a fire
To craft a story spellbinding and unique
The language of a writer I want to speak
*
So inadvertently at times I find
I become a fictional person in my mind
I imagine how my life’s circumstances would look
If I were a character in a book
Alone and bored, when I daydream
My fantasies are composed of bookish themes..
*
Instead of conjuring up mere sentences, one day
I hope inspiration would come my way
And the idea for a compelling story would germinate
In my mind, until then I would patiently wait
Passion...unbridled 