I sit down at my desk
Placing trust in these keys
My world comes alive
As blood surges through me

Every letter I punch
Each stanza I create
Transfers a piece of my heart
Across this paper--my stage

An audience who relates
Commending acts of my play,
But never a witness behind scenes
To an emotionally intoxicated Hemingway

For the performance you see
Is my truth and it takes toll,
But reliving memories while writing
Is worth touching my readers' beautiful souls

© JL Smith