Your words take on a whole new meaning-
Possess a whole new impact and power,
when they jump from the page
rather than from the blue hazy hue of modern technology's window.

Like a reflecting pool, they mirror an image of you that is seen
only by you, but for those incapable of seeing who you really are.
As the lonely mountain mere reflects a distorted vision in flux,
you must learn to see the image has changed. That it is only an image.

You are no longer bound by the impressions made by others over the years,
nor the images you have been taught to be true.
Those images and impressions given as gifts by self motivated Santas
demanding you unwrap and cherish them to be considered a “good girl”.

So easy for you to forget it is you, your life, and your words that are the gift.
A gift left wrapped, and under a tree in a house with no laughter.
The gifts of old words leave you partially deaf. Unable to hear the new words, loud as a party.
You have wrapped them so tightly they cannot escape into the world. Just like you.

It is time my love, for you to find yourself.
You are wrapped in the new stories.  Poems in waiting.
In those words as much as those words are in you.
Invisible ink needs to be seen, like the world needs to see the true you.

It is time to find yourself, and to share yourself with me and with the world.
I am begging you to set yourself free.
The words are the catharsis, poems, the gift.
You are not the words. The poems are not you. Belief in Santa must be shaken.

Thank you for the book. It is only the beginning.
It is my most prized possession, and I Love You.
I long for the day the words are spoken, poems written, and gifts opened,
and your laughter as you enjoy them like a wide eyed child on Christmas morning.

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