Notes...Paper...Words.
Notes all around the house on my desk, dresser, end table, and radio,
they are poems I write maybe just a line a phrase but words I know,
I carry a pen and this little book in my back pocket that I write on,
I don't want to miss a line, a thought, a poem, are a love song,
I see poetry all around me from when I awake until I sleep,
on the streets, in the news, on peoples face as they weep,
I see it in anger,in joy, in a heartache, in all the seasons,
I write when I think of you, you truly are my best reason,
you make so much seem so right, you open my eyes,
and when this world gets me down and I want to cry,
I write down a few lines, notes and nobody knows,
I write of love, lost , poverty, from grass to a rose,
from a story in a paper, on the news or on T.V.
in this world there are many stories you see,
when it starts becoming to much for me,
I think of you, of the kids, then I can see,
this world we live in poetry can breath,
from the high mountains to the sea,
from the desert to the city streets,
from all walks of life at our feet,
peaces of paper with words,
a note some thing I heard,
or just one simple line,
thinking of you I find,
words I set free,
in my poetry,
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