Expanding Every Horizon

Pencil marks bleed through the paper and litter the kitchen table;
Long lines of illustration and the brisk patterns of written language.
Rudimentary chronicles leave their legacy on that old table;
And stick in my young mind.

Then there is growing up.
The wooden table is replaced by glass,
And pencil does not jar the surface;
But I remember.

Unbreaking in my fascination; badly staples pages of fiction fill cupboards in my closet;
I am thirteen and my wonder is insatiable.
There are so many things yet to be written,
Floating in my head and bouncing off each other like,
Electrons in an industrious atom.

I am eighteen and graduation is a recent memory,
Writing has never left me;
And has expanded every horizon.

I write to
Tell,
I write to
Learn,
I write to
Inspire
I write to
Grow