within the writers mind,
totality in metered verse,
infinity defined.
The poet gives his soul away
in portions he decides,
with thoughts that ebb and flow to play
emotions like the tides.
He writes of love and other things
he might have found in me,
of broken hearts and Angel's wings
I've lost and found at sea--
of parenthood and common sense,
of brothers on the wall,
revisiting their innocence
and other ports of call.
An honest bard he re-ignites
the glaring torch of truth.
With wells of bitter ink he writes
the epitaph of youth.
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