My heart stirs,
with every word.
It shapes the mind,
and softens the heart.
Like the morning,
it is the light of day.
It wakes the soul,
and breathes true.
Like the night,
it is the shining stars.
It is all I have –
poetry, I love!
My heart stirs,
with every word.
It shapes the mind,
and softens the heart.
Like the morning,
it is the light of day.
It wakes the soul,
and breathes true.
Like the night,
it is the shining stars.
It is all I have –
poetry, I love!
The past reflects
a future glance,
a figment familiar
but strange,
and the eyes
that once loved you,
change shape –
and the refuge found,
dilutes –
fades away
with each passing reflection.
I wish I could tell you who I was
so you knew all that I am
but why unravel the mystery
when all I have
is what you think of me?