My  name is my identity:

And when you call, I say ,”That’s me!”

But surely I am more than just- marks on a paper;

A sound in the air?

At work I am what I do ,

My home defines what I love,

Sometimes I’m an idea, sometimes a dream,

Sometimes a raging force, a stream

Of angry words, emotion-fraught–

And when that’s over, calm, reasoned thought.

I can easily talk about myself – my favourite  food and drink–

My work, my friends, my well-loved books,

That make me laugh and think;

But the inner core that defines my “Me”-

Remains a deep dark mystery.




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