in parentheses

writers write
sometimes for others
sometimes for themselves
sometimes for nothing
but the simple act
of putting thought to sentence,
symphony to chorus.

writers write
and it is not always eloquent,
not always powerful,
not always.
writers words are sometimes like
an ordered coffee.
sometimes just right,
other times,
it’s missing the cream, or the sugar.
(sorry if you drink tea.)

writers write
for lots of reasons,
sometimes no reasons.
because
their thoughts are like
weeds in a garden
they need to be pulled
and tossed.

writers write
sometimes to let out the bad
let in the good
erase the rough drafts
the choppy essays and poems
about the same old, same old.
write out the tired to make room for
the oft-forgotten.

sometimes writers write
things that sound like kindergarden,
that speak like mum or dad
that whistle like your last girlfriend
or smell like apple pie,
warm fire place and blanket piles.
but sometimes
writers write and
it might remind you of
the alarm that wakes you for work
the stop and go of traffic
a bad first kiss.

writers write
and sometimes it’s not
worth reading,
but sometimes,
they get it just right,
the portions of coffee to cream to sugar
are perfect
(and the tea is sweet too,
if that’s what you like.)