Poor Poet A Poem by me
Many a poetWrites a poemMany a loverWrites a sonnetMany a childWrites the alapahabetBut who do the starsWrite to at night?Who do the planetsSing their sonnets toThe universe becauseThis is all they knowLike a childSo calm and innocentEvery adventure bringsSome new experienceTo a life less ordinrarySo as the walk goes onWho do I write for?No one but myselfFor myself is allI know the truth fromFor only I know meAnd this allMakes me the poor poet.
so therefore, maybe only you can see your stars. i think mine are burned and buried.
Warning Comment
so therefore, maybe only you can see your stars. i think mine are burned and buried.
Warning Comment