The Word Thief
A hand that writes at night and eyes staring into shadowed lanes
Spewing words out like water but drying before the ripened grain
Gone like dying winds fade into a summer breeze
Cunning thoughts blow away, reminiscent of autumn leaves
How I hate the fleeing words that vanishes before the first line
So hard to awaken the lost thoughts, they were so clear at the time
Now, they’re gone before the brain can think and take an alluring grip
vanishing into the flyway of words, in search of speaking lips
I’d like to give honor to others who avoids the robbery of the thief
Defeating the snares of losing words and welcome the dreams of sleep
Writing pretty words upon the tablet when thoughts and rhyme appear
You can wink and laugh at the word thief, he has no mischief here
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