Writer extraordinaire,
Adventurer,
Wanderer of the stars.
Roamer of broken streets
And lover of the dark.

Explorer of words,
Lover of yellowing pages,
Binder of such elegant growth.
Cursive to the keen eye
And raindrops on the silky petals of a rose.

Pieces of me shine through the littlest crevices,
In the open spaces and hard-to-reach places.
Who am I to deny such poetry?