I sat today and took some time to read   Looking back through every note and poem I could find, finding myself in a turn of emotions running through my mind. For those of us that express  ourself  through  the flowing ink of our pens, our memories remain written so we can always see. As I read the words I left written a thought crossed my mind. You see I understand my sorrows and know about the things in my life, how they got there from hour to hour day to day but when I write I write of my feelings in every single way. However for someone that reads them without knowledge of where they came from, I can't even Imagine their thoughts of the life I live based on the words I say . What an interesting menu of choices they have to read. Choices based upon the emotions of one's life we never even meet yet by the words written from their pen the reader knows more about that person than if they were there best friend.
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