No Apologies
Rumour has it
that you write
There are many
amateur critics ready
to put you down
You don't have to
apologize
for your life style,
for your work
for anything you do
When the summer begins
to die
Feel the winds of
September in your bones
Let your creativity
grow like a late-blooming
flower
Now you feel
only the wind
It doesn't judge
you
It frees your spirit
from the stifiling heat
Let the sound of
trumpets
Reach your soul
Pick up a pen
Tell them your hopes,
wishes, dreams
Let the critics talk
You are the
flowing river
of magic words
Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2005
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