A poet not

Perhaps someday I’ll write a rhyme
If so inclined and have the time

A play on words, a touch of wit
Tis true, I have some nack for it

Of pace and meter, twisted words
Passion, feelings, things I’ve heard

But not just now, my soul is old
My mind is numb , my muse too cold

My thoughts are shallow, as a pond
While poets need, an ocean strong

And so for now I’ll meditate
On poems of friends, I know are great

Just a rhymer - Justa Civileon 2003