THOUGHTS OF A POET IN THE RAIN

Driven: falling leaves whisper in my ear

eyes look, find and see a tiny tear

found fresh unlocked a silent fear

drank, needed, drowned in a glass of beer.

Driven: the mind is forced to write

of that part of hidden sight

which comes forth with absolute might

there cannot be a try to fight

Driven: the pen touches point upon the paper

circles, lines, dots and taper

the mind is swept in current strong

time is not counted in the long.

Driven: I cannot tell the time of day

nor know the path the words will sway

to lead me to a point which may

tell a story worth a longer stay.

Copywrite 05/06/2010 Gordon Kuhn