A Poets Life
Suddenly a thought appears from time to time
The words come in phrases, ‘n then comes the rhyme.
A poem is beginning, takes shape from the heart
But it is not quite right, and the struggles start.
To find words to tell a story, describe a place
It begins to build slowly, ‘tis not a race.
You know it is right when tears begin to well
When the poem is complete, the emotions swell.
The urge to create cannot be kept at bay
A poem from the heart is never far away.
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