Poetry has a way of hiding
Itself in a dried up riverbed.
Inspiration of nothingness.
Words at tongue’s tip,
Can’t quite grasp…
And then all of a sudden,
Words flow like the mighty Amazon
During the wettest season,
Tumbling over each other
In their rush to be writ upon the page.
Feast or famine,
All or nothing.

The silver sea shimmers and sparkles
Under the weight of the silvery moon

Shimmering moonbeams envelope the earth,
Casting a ghostly presence
Over hill and vale,
Land and sea;
Til morning comes,
And life anew.

We are one
Within these words
The spell of poetry
The best I can do
When we are really two