.

I may write in different styles,

I may write in different tongues,

I may write of cries or smiles,

I may write of hearts and lungs,

I may write a different world

And many a character,

I may write of fair hair curled,

A play without an actor,

I may change their deep struggles,

I may make them young or old,

Or sorcerers or muggles,

Together or far away,

Tomorrow or yesterday,

In the great circle of gold,

I may cast wars or treasons

Upon them without reasons,

I may choose their lives or deaths,

They may live in fantasies,

I may count each of their breaths

Until the time they decease…

I may focus on the leaves

Or on the lone wolf that grieves,

I may tell you of legend

And tales of mighty heroes,

I may describe the arrows

Just as they reach the edge and

Steal the breath into the wind,

I may tell you of magic,

I may tell you of tragic,

Of the warm tears as he grinned,

Of princesses and dragons

And ballads long forgotten,

Of the first and last wagons

And of souls lost or rotten,

But there should be no worries

From you about my antics,

Oh dear reader, oh dear friend,

For it is known, in the end,

We are both great romantics

And they all are love stories…

.

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I may write all that I want

And I may never finish

But I know that it will haunt

Me and turn me feverish…