From the word,
I've been away,
Creating rhymes,
Had taken a break.

A conversation, just yesterday,
Got me thinking
for the written word,
I still do crave.

To write about love,
To write about fear.
To write about life,
Or this field right here.

With every word I write,
I seem to remember,
The wall's not down,
Though the ladder is near.

Thought I'd grown up,
Left behind my poetic years.
Now I realise,
I stopped out of fear.

But all the while,
I was blessed with an ear.

For now  I can hear,
A rhyme within a smile,
Entire ballads in her eyes,
And the beauty of a tear.