A selfish scribbler of verses that’s me.
I eclipse my calling from the masses eyes.
On the other hand I leave it about.
Keeping my fingers crossed, It will be spied.
Host of words run on, that is my art.
Rip from inside, memories of the past.
From the heart, each verse always comes.
Longing for the times that did not last.
Overjoyed to find my work is appreciated.
Reaching out to others, permitting to heal.
If I only touch a soul, my job is completed.
Tho no one knows what I mean or feel.
Labor for hours or just a minute.
By nature I give more than I receive.
To hold back the written word.
Is out of character for me.
Versifier in a selected assemblage.
Very proud to be a part of.
We all have a side that can’t handle rejection.
But let out our work for others to love.
