When Poetry Began
Poetry began, if I may so surmise
When beauty touched the soul and fell upon the eye
'Twas then we had the notion
To write from our hearts and express our deepest emotions
And thus the poet was born
His inner thoughts flowing from his quill
His words rising like the morning sun
As his muse kept growing still
And when the evening came
And orange skies appeared as flames
The poet's quill was not yet done
But rose with Luna, to set the sun
Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2014
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