The Poet's Heart
It’s not the mind that bears the ink,
Nor scribes on paper. We don’t think.
It’s not with hand, we grasp our pens,
It with our feelings, the lives of men.
It’s not with lips, the stories told,
Nor with our tongues for to behold.
For with our hearts, we live and share
And pen ourselves as daily fair.
Therefore the words we send to you
Are words of love, pain, humor, truth.
So, when you read and become a part
Please know this poem was penned with heart.
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