Pen Runs Dry
I live a life of silence, with just myself you see,
as I live and breathe, it’s all about poetry.
I love to write, time flies, like words on a page,
it really makes no matter, what I may engage.
Page after page, book after book you see,
time flies when I’m writing my poetry.
Some of my writings will never be read,
just random thoughts forming in my head.
For 53 years now I have been writing you see,
whenever I am writing, I could never be so free.
Down on the lake, out in the woods so deep,
myself, my dog and cat, where life isn’t so steep.
To know God, and to let him teach you how to live,
to rely on his wisdom in His words He gives.
When you find out, just who you truly are, you see,
under the poets pot, a fire comes to be.
Write, rite, and keep righting, till your pen does die,
you never miss writing, till your pen runs dry!
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