The Raw Madness
The raw madness waits in my secret garden,
where pretty flowers bloom all year long.
Where the bees and butterflies,
suck the nectar to fill their tiny tummies.
Words fill my mind and heart,
telling me what to write.
Where the red birds stop by to sing,
singing in perfect harmony.
I hear rhymes and then free verse,
as I begin to write.
As I sit here on this old wooden bench,
I have found peace.
My pen and paper join together,
they united and write as one.
Peace covers me about the past,
I have peace about the long lost years.
Thanking peace for this beautiful day,
my hand holds my pen tight.
I leave the raw madness far behind,
as I sing and write in perfect harmony.
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