You drive attention to your fame
and then it dives into my veins.
A beauty that runs so deep
some nights I find it hard to sleep.

A flame inside gives off no smoke
this rain of poetry will choke.
Sweet in its time the seeds divine
grown in the garden of my mind.

No more gold no more empty curse
I can hear it through a lovely verse.
When the master decides to ease your pain
your sweet escape is on the highland train.