The Secret Thoughts of a Poet
It's opaque and thin, with ink so deep
This pen that allows my soul to seep.
It colors the pages of a wire-bound journal--
Records my thoughts--both joyful and infernal.
It leads me to whisk you, from reality, away
Inside my head, for just a moment to stay.
You read my thoughts and try to analyze
And on the paper, the ink quickly dries.
You feel so much more than could possibly be read
The feelings surpass what I actually said.
Your imagination has now taken you o'er.
You are wondering now why you do feel more.
Could the words that I've written sparked this grand plight?
Your head is now spinning. You're left with no might.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment