Poems Are My Life

I sit in a room filled with people
Who talk and laugh and tell jokes.
I see faces of friends and neighbors,
Faces of young and old folks.

I sit in a daze--in my own little world,
And the folks may feel that I'm rude,
But I just don't feel like talking or playing
It's just that I am in that mood...

My thoughts race on interwoven,
And memories fly by like the snow;
I should do something constructive,
But just what I really don't know.

Words appear before my eyes
And write themselves on my heart;
I want to write a poem,
But I don't know where to start.

So my hands smooth out the paper;
My fingers grasp the pen,
Then words flow out like vintage wine,
And satisfy my yen.

The words are ordinary,
But as I go along,
They well up with emotion--
Crescendoing like song.

They shoot up higher than the trees,
And put the birds to shame;
Then dig down deep into the heart,
The place from whence they came.

They shine my joy like sunlight,
And pour my tears like rain;
Sometimes they sting like arrows,
Or kiss away the pain.

They speak about my hidden fears,
And of my fondest hopes;
They cry about my fiery trials,
And how my spirit copes.

When the fog is finally lifted,
It allows my eyes to see:
This isn't just alot of words,
They're all a part of me!