From dark, to shadow, to light, to sunshine
From nothing, to doubt, to hope, to certainty
Unveiling of my little story
In less than ten minutes
Though by the summer
It could be half an hour
From a muddle, to a mess, to an idea, to fruition
From grey, to black, to blue, to deepest sunset red
I recall the circle
The hero, the villain
The defining moment
And a good number of tests
From autumn, to winter, to spring, to summer
From gold, to white, to green, to heavenly skies of blue
Write about what you know
Remember the words of Yevtushenko
A poet's autobiography is his poetry
Anything else is just a footnote
