JoAnne wrote poems and short stories and placed them in a box somewhere in the house for safe keeping. She often came across her old poems when packing to move or making room for new items. She would put off compiling them to make something of interest, and sit the box in a closet until she had enough time. There was never enough time, and years passed. She wrote poems for friends and co-workers on special occasions and stories of her childhood, still adding to her collection. Over a dark unexpected period in JoAnne's life she found herself drowning in pain and sorrow and needed an outlet, this became her outlet.
JoAnne wrote poems and short stories and placed them in a box somewhere in the house for safe keeping. She often came across her old poems when packing to move or making room for new items. She would put off compiling them to make something of interest, and sit the box in a closet until she had enough time. There was never enough time, and years passed. She wrote poems for friends and co-workers on special occasions and stories of her childhood, still adding to her collection. Over a dark unexpected period in JoAnne's life she found herself drowning in pain and sorrow and needed an outlet, this became her outlet.