The Land of Lore
My pocket friends,
I think of them,
Most every day.
They move me
With their energy.
They send me on my way.
Wanting rhymes,
And often times,
I find the harmony.
I'll jot it down,
Dance to the sound,
Searching endlessly.
Across the floor,
The land of lore
Says, "come to me."
Unfinished friends,
It never ends.
They tip-toe through my soul.
Then whispering,
A song to sing.
Their presence takes it's toll.
A work of art,
Close to my heart,
My pen will give them life.
They call for lines
At awkward times,
Embarrassing my wife.
She says to friends,
"He's gone again,"
As I stare into space.
I hear a voice.
There is no choice,
Their love I must embrace.
"Excuse me please,"
I'll say, and leave.
My thoughts will then immerse.
With pen in hand,
Another strand
Is woven into verse.
Across the floor,
The land of lore
Can sometimes be a curse.
Copyright © Robert Nehls | Year Posted 2014
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