• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 12
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Storyteller And Word Weaver

I sit crossed legged, propped up on my bed
Cupping a mug of my favourite coffee to water my head
I gaze out of the window
You may think I am napping

I am mapping my latest story
Letting the ideas flourish in my brain
Before I snip them with a scissors
Like herbs from my garden
And place them carefully on the paper

I move the words around
Let them roll across my tongue
Let my eyes scan them and play with them
Feel their sounds and their rhythms

They form the perfect pattern
And can be stuck down
The final version for now
The right way to say what I want to say

Tomorrow I may think differently
And chop and change the direction of my words
To tell a different story


Storyteller And Word Weaver

But for now it is the right one
And I rise

Pleased that for today I have told the right story