The shelves I behold intently
Like a mother by her little child;
One book after another do I catch,
To strive for a personal touch.
Orwell, the same life I led
My inspiration he bred
I have decided on the theme
Through the essays I read.
A pen, a piece of paper are the resource
To which I would have recourse.
In order to stamp a lasting fingerprint
By which my works would come into print.
A committment to hold up
At a time when there is no rising up;
But, it is easier said than done,
Especially when most people have impulsively run.
