Written On The Wind
A book of poetry came to my sight,|
I read it through into the night.
To lay it down became my plight,
I did not sleep until dawns' light.
This need to feel one poets' heart
exuding warmth; I felt it start
A fire from embers long thought dead
reaching high with flames, instead,
while shadows danced inside my head
in cadence to words still unread.
Then, from a place I have not seen
emotion helped me be serene.
My heart fell deep, my mind flew high,
rainbows replaced darkened skies.
Could it be this author sought me out,
penning words to ease my doubt?
Perhaps, my sun might shine once more
to brighten one mans' lonely shore.
Shocked, was I these lips could smile,
yet, soon to find just for awhile.
Seems, even undying words must end
when each is written on the wind.
* Written in tribute to Edgar Allan Poe
© 2012 Billyrob
(All rights reserved)