Why I Write

Fifty years and getting on,
Emotions in head and heart,
I’m closer to the end of my life,
Than I am to the start.

So grow old as I will,
I’ll record for you my tales,
By clever use of written word,
And a capacity for e-mails.

A million seller I’ll never be,
That’s simply not my lot,
Just stories for the family,
All with a wonderful plot.

A moment out to drift in time,
Remembering old songs we sung,
And Lyons Road said it all,
About life when we were young.

Whilst I hear sibling books,
May never reach my sight,
Treasured stories never told,
And that is why I write.