On Words We Feed
Poems, I pen, they seem to come quick
Thoughts in my head, sometimes they’re sick
Sometimes noble, true and full of sweet love
And often quite spiritual, with thoughts from above
Words seem to come out with thoughts of their own
Ideas are then born and poems are then grown.
Like a Garden of Verses, Robert Louis had said,
If words were a food, then we’d all be fed.
Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2008
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