Paragraphs,
of words to be.
Written down,
to fill a need.
Sentences,
penned forth to read.
Hung on walls,
for all to see.
Explanations,
of the past.
For the future,
made to last.
Little words,
that make us dream.
Fantasize,
cry and scream.
Delivered to us,
in a grin,
Read in ways,
that chill the skin.
Serious,
but sometimes fun.
A poets work is never done...
saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poets-work-is-never-done/
