2011/12/16

My Poet, My Love - 2011/12/16

I kept it close to the chest
Afraid to relinquish it outright
To those that engaged in tactics
That in no way could be right

She spun tales on the television
A lovely woman by my description
For she sought to reveal lost art
To fellows blinded by inscription

Each and every word is a transfer
Of emotion I decided not to share
Strangely it makes no difference
Whether or not you actually care

Centuries dead we may in fact be
Our words carry through the ages
Whether on novel pages or by notes
It shall live on outside our cages

This not the act of the narcissist
For this talent is for the paupers
It is the burden I no longer carry
Bringing a peace everybody prefers

This is a night of smoke and drink
Bringing the always heavy solitude
Within I am ready to sit and think
If you agree do not let me intrude

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