Over my morning coffee,
I read the poems that flow;
the heartache and the happiness,
of people I don't know.

It stirs the heart and tugs the soul,
emotions words do capture;
the pains of life,    the joys,
are lovely in their stature.

Poetry's the gift of God,
rhymes for every season;
lyrics for the wounded heart,
for,   whatever reason.

The seeds of every thought,
now printed on each page;
in celebration of the day,
the madmen and the sage.

Poetry walks hand in hand,
with God's uncertain lovers;
it blankets them in peace,
what love the world discovers!