Some people wonder what inspires the artist to create. This is my answer.
A word brings a thought, brings a beckoning.
A sound lets a memory play with time.
A sight, which is most splendid
lures the focused mind astray.
Drifting with the summer rain,
the autumn leaf, the wind of spring,
the frozen flake remains, always within.
Without expression I would drown,
my hard won crown, would melt away.
When I close away the world outside,
the one within begins to rhyme.
