The Intimate Observer

Enough about hearts and frivolousness. I have sealed many pages with my mark Of flowers and red and the bluest of roses. Trees of green and blue skies I have developed an intimacy with these words. No surprise, I am an intimate observer Sincerely and ever caring I wear no disguise to try and sneak an Inauthentic poem pass Rainbows know I have had my epiphanies I have listed horizons more time than not Dusk and dawn how can I ever Hope to carry on? What for was I born I love my poems as if they were my flesh But what next? I've written about love times and times again Until I now wear her name on my sleeve I should roam the planet searching for a clue If this pen does not send poetic words I fear I might wither into dust. I love each word. Lover of words I am the intimate observer