Places I Walk


  • Advice From My Grandfather
  • Bearded Iris on Black
  • Chasing My Words
  • Differences
  • Have You Ever?
  • I Am More Than What You See
  • My Name
  • Night Sweats
  • Red Herring
  • The Word of the Day
  • Time
  • Witches Pay Taxes

    by Gerardine Baugh © 2007


    ~Gerardine Baugh© 1/25/2006

    When was a child I can remember; Writer; softly whispered,
    No one was around; when I reached for the one who spoke.
    I felt safe within that word; I searched out its meaning,
    Leather bound path of words, side by side.
    Two dozen, books of knowledge, lined neatly;
    Their bindings soften from time, they smelled of thought.
    Writer; whispered and echoed in my soul.
    Reading from the works of others;
    Their voices murmured;
    I have ignored my path, with its restrained voice.
    Still, I hear my resonance of need murmuring louder;
    From my soul, the whisper sounds commanding.
    You’re a writer!


    This is a wonderful writer’s group.


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    My Walking Path