To find the fire in my own words
I read from Stan on his birthday,
Remembering him for Anne, another stranger I adore
I read Frances's words, knowing she's described it just as it is
To find the fire for my own words
I gaze at David and John
With and without sound and motion
To find the fire of my own words
I search in the everyday around me
In the voices of others known
And those too far away to know
But close enough to admire
I type slower than the thoughts and words come,
Too slow to catch them all
But please, fast enough to kindle the fire in my own words
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