Dedication

To my mother who taught me how to read, no matter

how hard it was to keep me still. There are times you read to me

as I ran around the room and the words would chase me. You

never gave up and from your perseverance grew stories of worlds unknown and poems of emotions

known. You told me to let my creativity

fly and now it's not just my stomach filled with butterflies.

Underneath every piece is you because if it wasn't for your

love of books, a million stories would have never been told.

*

To my father, the poet, who I will always believe passed on

his gift as he spoke of stanzas he built

and art he created with a look on his face I have captured in my mind,

never think you aren't a reason my fingers flew over the

keys, pouring out my soul into poetry,

for you never asked me to but part of me

urged me to. Here is your

legacy continuing.

*

To the librarian and her publisher friend, you set off the spark and

how the fire burns. It dwindled under the coals for

a while, but it is now reignited and I can't put it out. I would

never want to, because it

keeps my spirit alive, warm, and

free. One day I hope you'll get the chance to

understand what you started when you told the

little girl that she had a gift.

*

To you, the readers and writers of this wonderful community, you showed an insecure woman that her gift

hadn't died, it was merely sleeping, hibernating,

and you helped to wake it up.

Now I'm here and I feel like I'm on the edge of something wonderful along with

kindred spirits,

full of praise so

undeserved and overly appreciated.

Let us write forevermore.