Dear poet pals, I pen for you alone.
You understand; you’re in the poet zone!
My pain that pours, it flows with yours, I’m sure
from deep inside our cold, creative core.
These days, when dismal darkness clouds and clings,
inside our sunless souls such sorrow clings.
Yet rays of gleaming gold will still break through
to leave a trail that’s tender, tranquil, true!
Our brotherhood is bound by ink, not blood;
our sisterhood’s as sound as cedarwood.
And unlike souls whose feelings don’t run deep,
we wear upon our sleeves the woe we weep.
Dear poet friends, we may not ever meet.
So, these poor lines I lay them at your feet.
And if they resonate, if they ring true.
Then this raw rhyme from me is part of you!