My arms will be a piano
for you to play the keys
I know they are hard
I'm sorry, there have been others.
my heart will be the drum
your feet will dance to
it is sometimes off beat
I'm sorry, there have been others.
My eyes will be your canvas
you can paint in them the stars
The darkness is already there
I'm sorry, there have been others.
my lips will be your clay
you will have to smooth out the rocks
I'm sorry, there have been others.
My body will be your artwork
you can put your autograph on the cover
I know there are other names printed
I'm sorry, there have been others.

The love of a poet in love with a pen,
About love, heartache, mystery or sin,

A chosen few who can tell the tale,
That will inspire, unite, or cast a spell,

Then there are the few  who do not agree,
With the style, format or cant even see,

The love of a poet in love with the pen,
Who shares the tale about something within,

Judge not about what is missunderstood,
expression through poetry is simply good.

I too am a poet in love with my pen,
I hope you enjoy- what I share from within.

Branches, on a lonely tree.
Growing, in a lonely field.
Where the green,
falls to the sea.
Into the blue,
Into the deep.

There, upon the coral floor.
Dancing,
with the changing tides.
Swaying,
going with the flow.
Forever reaching
to the light.

Branches,
underneath the moon.
Dancing
with the western winds.
Waiting for the Sun to come.
Another day
to begin.