I Give You, the Poet

He sees with his heart while writing with his mind As words can sometimes be very hard to find While seeing beauty in a flower, or even a brook A poet sees everything, with more than a look For he gathers inspiration from everything seen Or felt within his heart, interpreting meaning He composes, not for others, but shares just the same For the writing is his pleasure, his fate and his game He’s a master of language, of poetry and prose A storyteller, who feels, everything that he knows For more than a story does a poet then weave He provides you experiences, if just you believe And as he settles down, for his slumber each night He keeps a pen and some paper on his table, by the light For many a time, each eve, he may awaken from his sleep With new lines to write, with new verses to keep