It's the blossoming feeling in your chest.
It's the waning blues of winter, the bright, mottled greens of summer.
It's the cool of the night, the milky white of the moonlight on green grasses and dark trees.
It's the cold December wind on your face, the tickle of the summer breeze toying with your hair and caressing your cheeks.
It's the glint of sunset on store fronts. The gold, shining morning sunrise on quiet houses in small neighborhoods.
It's the stench of a city, the scent of fast food irritating and enticing one's nostrils.
It's the intimidating gray of storm clouds, and the bright, fluffy clouds of a sunny day.
It's the feeling of cool rain on your bare skin. The feeling of excitement one gets from breaking rules. From dancing in the rain......
It's seeing the perfect scene in your head. Putting words with faces and characters.
It's mixing and matching colors and sounds, names and faces, scents and textures...
It's the perfect match of connotation and denotation.
It's the need in your tingling fingertips to get an idea across.
It's tangled, carefully pieced together words.
It's that irresistible, burning desire to get it all OUT.
It's who you are.
I'm not a poet. I don't have any published poetry. I'm not an author. I make no money writing any kind of stories.
Nor do I write biographies, or memoirs, or books about history....
I, am a writer.
I, am creative.
And I, have been inspired, by the summer's loving breeze.