I Have an Itch to Write

I have an itch to dance
To shake my body to the music playing from my phone in my mint green bedroom.
To bend and fantasize in my living room with music blasting from the speakers.
I have an itch to dance.

I have an itch to sing.
To belt out the words to my favorite song ever.
To feel the music in my body.
To listen to the country songs on the radio.
I have an itch to sing.

I have an itch to laugh.
To snort over things middle scholars say.
To belly laugh in charades with my family.
I have an itch to laugh.

I have an itch to draw.
To scribble on the page in agony, wondering how life got this way.
To work for days and days with my pencil clutched in my hand, and finally look at the finished whatever-it-is.
I have an itch to draw.

I have an itch to read.
To curl up on my couch and dive into Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.
To use my voice to entertain five-year-olds.
I have an itch to read.

I have an itch to run.
To feel the cold air burning in my lungs as I pelt down the gravel road.
To jog along a beach path while looking at seagulls and kicking up sand.
I have an itch to run.

I have an itch to swim.
To dive into the rec center pool, or hotel pool, or lake or ocean or water.
To splash through the caramel water, holding my breath and blowing steady streams of bubbles.
I have an itch to swim.

I have an itch to write.
To get my words down on paper
With a ballpoint pen.
To see the black letters straight across the page, and then look up triumphantly.
I have an itch
To write.