Poet Aging
Though Age is catching up on me
It cannot dry the ink
From which I write consistently
Emotions felt and thoughts I think.
Hope as a worded dream may fly
To vast horizons it may soar,
Pain is the dew, comes from my eye-
Substance, the reason I'm here for.
Form contains the words conveyed,
Perhaps some Rhyme may spice the piece,
Happiness is the reward that laid
Its soft and gentle kiss to this.
Copyright ~~~Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~07.01.13
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