My Life Depends On Writing
When cold winds blow
I turn to the page
blank and waiting
to become something more.
I write verse and prose
while the world
goes on without me.
I am the sun
and the meadow
on a winter day
while outside
a fall of snow.
The one I once knew
is a vision
my guiding light
s story and verse
while I must tell
others and others alike
that love never dies.
Copyright © Mike Bayles | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment