FredPeyer

My Quill

The quiet is overbearing

In a world standing still

Reduced to a room, a table

A paper and my quill

 

Thoughts are born and die

In the silence of this room

Where words are gently woven

Into poems on my lyric loom

 

Delving into my imagination

My mind is opened wide

Erasing all limitations

Inspiring paths untried

 

To be quiet and alone

Is what I need to indite

Enabling me to compose

With vigor and delight