Poet
When the ink has dried
And the pen won’t write
And the words are not typed
The poet knows it
Silence for the poet
No one knew of her
Words loudly spoken
When a heart was broken
She was given a sprit to write poems
Right out of the top of her head
Tucked away feelings acted out on pen and paper
Carefully using simple meaningful words
Inside she cried out for notice
Were the pomes any good?
Strong enough to touch a heart or tow
Or just a few deep down she new
It really did not matter for she knew it would
Not make her famous or rich
But just to see the likes and the time
Someone took to read her pomes
Brought joy to her heart and spirit
That was often broken and never spoken of
Copyright © Mirian Parrilla Garcia | Year Posted 2015
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