when I put my hand to paper
a whole new world appears.
I'm not limited to reality
or by my hopes, my dreams, my fears.
at fifteen the doodles on the pages
were seen as immature
teacher said to erase them
and my vision became blurred.
I thought that others would embrace creativity
but some, no they do not
in my room where only proponents are
the pen moves and ideas are caught.
if this world at my desk
were to be removed
my ideas, hopes, dreams, fears
would not know what to do
I need that pen and paper
and would take it to the deserted island
so my ideas could roam like wild animals
and writing becomes my land
take away all material possessions
but the words and doodles must remain
for sanity's sake, of course