The writing of a poem
The telling of an ode
A gift that has been given
Rewards been reaped and sown
It seems to me to be
Both a pity and a shame
I only write my best work
While my heart is in the rain
My eye reads the words
My mind brings to the fore
My eye cries the tear
Those words cause to fall
Sometimes I crave this heartache
So my mind has some relief
I will for it to come back
That is is my muse, is my belief
But when I am in love
And my heart sings loud and clear
I know this is the right way
And cry a happy tear
The sun clears out the clouds
And the rain in my heart will ease
I know that to be happy
My poetry must cease
27th December, 2000
