Gold Mine

I was always known

as the little, quiet girl.

Many thoughts, but few words. Loud ideas, but quiet voice,

barely audible to a mouse.

•

But little did they know

•

that there were gold

mines in my mind’s eye,

•

sparkling so vividly and majestically.

•

When other students groaned and moaned

over having to write a short story,

•

I pondered on how I would once again

use my pen to plot a plan,

and magically find those golden words

that could never be spoken so easily,

but seemed to have glided on the paper

•

so freely.

•

Stitching and weaving stars into constellations,

and colorful hues into paintings.

•

The silent canvas would then be filled

with golden expression.

•

Now, as a quiet woman,

with a gold mine of imagination,

Once again, I pick up the pen to share

my wondrous world

of creation.