How long must I carry this monkey around,
this love that just needs to flow forth onto the page.
Sometimes it's seems as though it's you,
which forces me to have these thoughts anew,
that fill these pages with my argent spew.
And yet, the story is not of you,
the words have some meaning, but don't fulfil my lust.
And so as they tumble forth, I wonder why they come,
they are unbidden from my imagination of love and life.
My characters have some shades of my magical ardour,
my need to be a knight in shining armour,
and yet, it's all about that yearning for love, that draws me closer to you.
This monkey is fully on my back, and he is clinging on,
he is feeding on my passion, my dreams of this life,
and to shake him off, I must write each day for you,
mayhap this will weaken off his hold.
Somehow I think I will struggle on, until I write those final words,
Those words which will read, the end, and no more,
and yet I will still love you evermore, for such is my life.
I am currently writing a new book, which is an adult faery tale.I am also blogging a short spy story as well... I write a thousand words each day on the book, and about six hundred of the short story. Sometimes the faery tale spins around and around in my head and I find it difficult to sleep properly, and as it is a romance, which in itself is driven by my 40yr relationship, I write the short story to find relief from the faeries on my back.
