Sep 2016
Surfing is playful
When there's a tide
But it's awfully painful
When waves have died
And what of the poet
Who was filled with rhyme
Whose verse is now crippled
By a heart that pines
Torn is a poet who knows
Not when to share
Forlorn is his heart
Of emotions laid bare
When there's a tide
But it's awfully painful
When waves have died
And what of the poet
Who was filled with rhyme
Whose verse is now crippled
By a heart that pines
Torn is a poet who knows
Not when to share
Forlorn is his heart
Of emotions laid bare
It seems at times the muses play me for the fool that I am. I wish I wouldn't be so naive and open but I am compelled to be me!
