The pen, it thrives inspiration.
Channelling thoughts; emotions of my being.
For if I don’t feel it the pen can not write it.
The pen writes so only I understand.
I am the master; it the slave…
A slave to my heart like fingers to a hand.
The pen is my friend.
The pen is my guide.
For the pen speaks my soul.
After creation came the poet And the poet said “Let there be darkness” And the Sun fell from the sky leaving the night And the
The person who taught me manners had none The person who taught me empathy had none The person who built my heart had none The
Tranquillity emanates from the glow of the ocean. The distant hum of traffic provides the comfort of knowing I am not alone on this planet
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