Left handed, I am not.
I write with my right,
I type my words and stories right and left,
I send my message in every direction.
Am I right? Who can say?
I can hope that my right writes what’s right.
On the other hand, sometimes hope just isn’t enough.
Sometimes it pays to write with my left.
To take away the right that I’ve held in such high esteem,
And type, and write with the hand that’s left.
Sometimes it pays to look to the things you’ve left behind,
To listen to your left, and write its story.
Is your left right? Who can tell?
But at least you have more than hope in your right,
At least, if your right writes the wrong things,
You can hope that people read left to right,
That even if your left writes the wrong thing, that they’ll read the right thing.
So that’s why I wrote left-handed today.
I hope my left wrote the right thing.