Taking pen in hand

To weave a few words.

The color is in your eyes,

The sound you have heard.

Let not the bell chime,

As I have not struck it yet.

There within my words,

Will the sound emanate.

Listen and you will hear

What my heart has to say.

For if only briefly each day,

It seems to make its way.

I, not in advance think,

But write my thoughts each day.

No premeditation or hardly ever,

Do I let them get in my way.