Something I love.
Something I hate.
The white of a dove.
The fiery gate.
It can be about love,
Someone should've had.
It can be about lust
How it turned the good to bad.
When  I write.
I think to myself.
What am I compared to
Dust on the shelf.
A huge ugly clambering ogre
Or gentle giant looking over
Lines and lines of rhyming words.
A sing song tempo meant for birds.
In the end you will see
Writing does mean something to me.