"We write, in part, the words we need to read."
Rebecca McClanahan, Write Your Heart Out
My words are my children,
nurtured from conception to maturity,
from thought to page.
They are what (all) I have to leave behind,
to let someone know I was here.
The mark I leave.
One proof of my life's worth.
They talk back to me, make me laugh.
They explain me, comfort me, as I grow old.