In a peaceful place to stay
Pen and paper in hand
Many hours would pass away
Sat on the golden sand

Random thoughts would often pass
Etched from mind to verse
A poem never finished
Writers block his dreaded curse

In a place of perfect beauty
Where symphonies of ideas are born
In the scent of foaming seas
In writers block he mourns

In a peaceful place to stay
Poetry his true love scorned
But still he seeks to find his way
Till a new love verse is born

~The poets pen ebbs and flows~
~Singing tender words of love that grows~

15th June 2011