You ask why I write. <br />Why I stray in open spaces, <br />settling in corners, seeking <br />paper, leaves, anything <br />to document every inhale <br />exhaled. <br /> <br />Not for money; that is given. <br />I do because I must. <br /> <br />Because children grow <br />and leaves will fall. Because <br />pages turn and life <br />goes on - clichés <br />to comfort us as we fade. <br /> <br />Fade we will, <br />like words on the page. <br /> <br />Because here <br />inside this moment, <br />trees aflame <br />with day's last breath, <br />lives taken and given <br />in unfair exchange, <br />the world is screaming <br />for attention. <br /> <br />And while I cannot hold <br />death, love or the passage <br />of time, I believe someone <br />ought to take notice, or <br />at least stop <br />to write about it.<br /><br />Lori Boulard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poets-why-i-write/
