Poets
We stand between all time and space
Poets on the head of a pen
Catch a ride on a speck of dust
Blown off by the wind
Twirling as if out of control
The days go rushing by
Reaching out to grasp a moment
As one or two captures the eye
We are bound together
Passengers on this speck of dust
Riding out our time
In this wanderlust
All poets with a purpose
To find that one true line
As we venture forward
In search of the perfect rhyme
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