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
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