All I ever wanted was to

Make my words skim with grace

Across the pages…

Like Gene Kelly-smooth of throat and 

Boisterously athletic 

In the middle of a downpour.

I knew, after all, my body could not

Cooperate in that fashion.

My voice was too often smallish and strange.

Only in text could I ever hope for

Flight…

Only in the threading of phrases

Could I ever find

My own way of

Singin’ in the rain.

Now, there were those who tried to change it.

Some who felt the need to remake it,

Fiddling with the drape of my trench,

Or even to take it away,

Tut-tutting my lack of umbrella,

Smirking over my lack of balance…

But there is something about the

Fierceness of the heart’s desire…

It reinvents its own cobblestone stage,

Emerges glistening and wet,

Streets once again all set,

Ready for my pen to dance

Once more…

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