Stories

I give a bit of myself away

With every story I tell

Away and away it goes

From dawn to dusk it flows

My stories possess balms for aches

They can lure in sleep that can be deeper than deep

They can paint you a smile and even prick you to weep

Stories here, stories there, stories of love, and despair

I give a bit of myself away

With every story I tell

Away and away it goes

From dawn to dusk it flows

Stories of sorrow

Stories of the morrow

Stories of the past

Stories, meant to last

There are too many to hold

Take some and wear some

They are never crude, but some happen to be draped in  flaws

They are not perfect; they celebrate their imperfections and embrace any applause

Let them flow, let them grow

Let them be real, let them glow

Away and away they go

From dawns to dusks they flow