The Poet Within

The poet sings within the heart of me And I respond with ears a-listening She sings a song of all reality That comes from days gone by and other things Of which I only feel the truth that be Within the words I write, remembering And yet I cannot know for sure, or see From where the essence flows, like bells that ring. The poet sings and I respond to her For beauty is too fine a thing to shun I listen to the harmony of love And dancing there I flow to twist and turns As the music flows, I repose to hear And write upon some line the fact or pun.