This will probably vanish as soon as I write it.
Do you think our childhoods still exist in chalk on the sidewalk?
Would you write poems on sandy beaches just to give the Ocean credit?
The woman writes her lover a message in the condensation on the mirror and then happily sighs.
It will go away, but at least she tried she thought.
She never knew the power of her own love from within.
No one will ever know I tried to admire them was the sad afterthought.
The desire to be recognized began to weigh-in.
We’re not here forever; you can’t start to think like that.
We all vanish at some point, no matter what the medium, whether chalk, sand, steam, or human.
A creation is a creation, and your life is an artist’s habitat.
So strive for peace & success; be known as the next President to stop the war like Harry Truman.
It’s a little something I like to call the Creative Business.
It’s about the fact that you will have created something.
A creation is a creation, and it’s your love to show, no matter what the bizarreness.
This is more important than doing absolutely nothing.
The young woman lived her life by this.
She was created to create whether it would be here to stay or not.
Creations she’d make even if they’d vanish like the cheese in the holes of Swiss.
She couldn’t just live the rest of her life saying I’d love to, but I cannot.
An artist she was by her poems in the mirrors.
We must remember those things that will vanish.
You never know, it could have been miracles.
So wake up your inner artist & don’t let it banish.
Write your favorite words with yellow highlighters in the Sun.
We all have a story to tell before Sundown.