The writers the ones you’ve never heard of the solitary ones without an audience their goal isn’t fame or acclaim they just write and write and write down all their beauty scars involuntarily like breathing they can’t help themselves so they write down all the sorrowful all the elusive all the love lost irretrievable moments encapsulated microcosms first love and last goodbyes like snow falling diamonds disappearing wondrous rescued in memory’s frame forever golden all the honorable anonymous all the living and dying and trying and pouring out crying but just a rare few will ever read their words
A beautiful poetic tribute to all the writers out there like the ones described in your poem, Judy.
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