Every time I read your stories
I wonder where you went.
If you’re okay.
What took you away?
Did you have no more to say?
Was there a tragedy? Are you
alive and well? Did you just
change your mind, decide
to leave your readers behind?
Has real life consumed
your writing time? Were
you banned? Or hurt by
a review too unkind?
Secrets you’ll never tell.
Oh well.
I come across you
all the time. So many of
your stories shine.
Words are treasures too.
Ghost stories like ghost towns,
It’s you who’s haunting.
Echoed through the
emptiness of pages.
When the finished books run dry,
your tales show up. They beckon,
I’ll be reading all that I can find;
half written gems
you left behind.
Maybe you’ll read this someday
and know that though you’re gone,
your words live on…