A poet writes of simple things,
of his heart thats known to few.
His heart sails on lofty wings,
for he has a task to do.
The peace and joy that he can find,
comes from a quiet thing.
His hope will always be for,
any good that he can bring.
A poet lives in quiet thoughts,
with a faith that God can bring.
The kind, friendly folks he knows,
makes his heart so he can sing.
He sees the good in brotherhood,
while walking in hopes good light.
He sees the beauty of a sunset,
and the silver stars at night.
He can see and write about,
Birdsongs at the break of day,
Or a gentle rose wet with dew,
as he goes gently on his way.
A poet writes of simply things,
Of his heart thats known to few.
His heart sails on lofty wings,
For he has a task to do.
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