As I Sit

As I sit, with pen in hand,
I must say, with no remand,
of writing two works, recently
as I sat in front of the
computer, writing quite freely.
Why do words, which I love
come easily from my trove
of words bouncing in my head?
Where is the senseless prose,
now taking me? I wish to know.
Let me be, o fate of mine,
I love all my friends, for sure
and hope my distant love
will last long and endure.