I’m prone to penning poetry,
(I sense the sacred symmetry)
that\'s hidden from most mortal eyes
behind a dull, but deft disguise.
The beauty of a leaf or bud,
the silence of a winding wood.
They make me feel in my heart’s core:
the love that tells me, ‘hate no more.’
I’m sensitive, some say a seer!
With prophet’s powers and eyes that peer
into the future, dark and deep,
where some will dance and some will weep.
And I’m a poet raised on rhymes,
a child who’s tasted troubled times.
Yet, through this valley’s veil of tears
I’ve glimpsed the dawn of golden years!