I’ve been a farmer, a fireman, a builder of dreams,
I’ve climbed mountains, chased butterflies, crossed many streams.
Though I’ve traveled many places with pride,
There’s much I need to do to please the writer inside.
Call me a teacher, a cowboy, a cook, and much more,
I stand tall on the roof and crawl on the floor.
I do everything I want to do yet I must confide,
I like who I am, especially the writer inside.
I write short stories, poetry, mysteries, and things I should hide,
because I write the truth and keep nothing inside,
I write about life and love, and laugh until I cry.
Because I am a writer who will live until I die,
I’m a rich man, poor man, you can decide,
I’m everyone, no one, My heart beams with pride,
Lie to me, hate me, but remember my name,
I am a writer who travels, and pretends he’s after fame.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s