Words
Each golden thread,
that a poet writes,
ties us together,
we are bound so tight.
Such a garment,
many hours it takes,
composing our thoughts,
as a masterpiece is made.
Every one different,
many sizes, and shapes,
to be revealed,
never to fade.
Our legacy will shine,
many will read,
our thoughts, our dreams,
we have planted a seed.
Words, yes words,
on paper we write,
each golden seam,
placed just right.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2008
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