My life is comprised of inconsistencies, daydreaming, procrastination techniques and occasionally, writing.
“You wrote down that you were a writer by profession. It sounded to me like the loveliest euphemism I had ever heard. When was writing ever your profession? It's never been anything but your religion." - J.D. Salinger
I would like to say this quote describes me but I'm one of those writers who just procrastinates all the time. More of a "writer" if I'm being honest. To those unfortunate enough to read my work: I very much appreciate any comment you can provide, particularly if it's the constructive kind.
Written By: Grace Mary Potts
December 16, 2014
Flying high I watch the world bellow me,
Crimson skies stretch out above and around me,
And to the west there doth be people sound asleep,
And from them their dreams Morpheus shall reap,
My fingers stretch out to skim the clouds,
Eyes glancing down at dispersing crowds,
Like a bird I soar above and away,
All this to leave the end of day,
The sunlight I chase, my gaze on the horizon,
Speed fails me in my longing for the world to brighten,
To the east lights flicker on as the darkness descends,
Its icy grip catches me as the last will of the sun bends,
Stars upon me, around me and speckled darkness bellow,
Sadness fills me as my pace begins to slow,
The day has escaped me, without proper farewell,
How many hours shall I wait to be recaptured by its spell?
So with desolation I anticipate the end of the night,
Hours pass but to sleep I do not surrender without a fight,
But with a jolt I awaken as the darkness breaks by dawn,
Happiness is prevalent and I’m back to the sky with a yawn,
Beneath me people awaken, the world’s an open door,
Like a bird I fly, like an eagle I soar.