They continue to drift onto paper each day,
Making us realize life changes in some way.
To the prettest poem about rainbows and stars,
To the darkest poem about hatred and harm.
It's an endless cycle in around about why,
Were all of us try to give what we may.
Born to be poets I think we all relate and know in our hearts,
Poetry is what it takes,
To relive life as we know it and express all we see.
The painters do it well, as we all continue to see.
But, we as the poets can give vision to the art,
We can take from heaven and bring it down to one's heart.
We can change each vision to the person who's see's it next and give them the chance to make there vision's our quest.
Our words chime together although not always on rhyme,
They reach for the same goal,
Which is to let our words fly.
Fly to highest timber at the top of every tree.
To be heard far and wide and bring all the beauty one can see.
Our words are the song of nature that keep the balance and the beat,
So to my fellow poets, your words will be always within reach.