A Very Special Poet Friend of Mine

Ok; you’re poor

And you are forced to fill your days

With mindless, monotonous tasks.

A slave to work!

No secret savings stowed away,

But you can write!

You can compose!

Your Muse can make sweet music in your mind.

String wonder words together so divine

'Cause you’re a special poet friend of mine!

 

Ok; you wake

And aches and pains are waiting for you

To ambush you like cruel assassins.

You swallow pills

And bind supports to both your knees.

The day has dawned

The day you dread!

But stanzas surface subtly in your soul

For from a healing heart that once was torn

A buried thing of beauty now is born

 

Ok; you’re tired

From endless nights of broken sleep

And diabolic dreaming

Your weekend flew

And Monday’s blues are waiting round the corner

You feel washed up like shell upon the shore

But from the pier

That fish hooked on my line

I’ll fry it up for you; a dish divine

'Cause you’re a special poet friend of mine!