Day 64: Without a Single Address

I have been fascinated with the John Doe letters I used to write, when I was a boy. It was an exercise in learning how to write, and for a long time I used to think we always did it wrong. The idea was always about the format rather than the content, the content was irrelevant often and it would have sufficed to write enough to just get your idea across. None the less we would write these mock letters to mock addresses and learn about this wonderful art , that would soon be replaced by instant messaging and emails. Today was about revisiting this little boy in the back of my head, as I sat with my family reminiscing the past, it reminded me of arguments that I had with myself and how I learned how to communicate with letters, with words to no one. And hence this is an expression to that nature of not knowing addresses simply a purpose should be enough

Without a Single Address
I have found you at the dawn instead of the , I am book you read when you get up for your day,
You find me by your sides, snuggled right beside in the blanket that lies tucked away
The little children outside, run more free in my mind, in fiction and dreams and tales of today,
They are happier in the dreams that create, in the painting they paint and in the colors they play

The author resides in the depths of his home, through the crusty window glass he stares outside,
To the soul he writes about endless words, in pages and warmth of a page where he conspires,
He makes flames out in story books, he tells tales so brave, so passionate and yet so kind,
He tells of men who have vanished into the abyss and then about legacies that they have left behind.

The little child in my head,still reads day by day, he learns words at night,
He steals meaning from the things he can relate, he writes them down in only spaces in his mind,
Falling down the road seems just an excuse, I dust up myself as I get ready to go again,
The day may be over, the dusk may have drawn close, but the things of great beauty is far from an end

To cheers that bounce off the walls as they might, on days that I often sing by your side,
And the words that spin around in my head, they find meaning somehow , wherever they can find
I have found the little child that still writes letters to no one, but none the less,
He has found a way to communicate with the world, without even "a single address".