Poetry Was Born

Inspired by spring A blossom, a bird, A thought came to mind And then a word Inspired by summer The warm sunshine, Became an image Became a line Inspired by autumn The leaves that shook, And poem after poem Became a book Inspired by winter The peaceful snows, Birthing an art That no one knows Inspired by all things And with time, There came rhythm There came rhyme Poetry was born Way back when, An inspired one Took up the pen.