This week's prompt is - Poetry.
She builds me up
When I'm feeling low
No need to think
The words will flow
Sometimes I giggle
At the lines we share
Did I write that?
Blissfully unaware
When I'm stuck in a rut
She whispers and taunts
Words don't make sense
Her rhymes she flaunts
Silently mocking
When I'm feeling my best
Lurking beneath the surface
With my misery suppressed
She knows I'll be back
We are one and the same
Her words I must write
Or she'll drive me insane
She's gives herself freely
Time and again
I can't thank her enough
POETRY... my trusted friend
Yes, our gifts are real friends! I cherish mine, small as they are!
ReplyDeletehugs for this masterpiece :)
ReplyDeleteMy Sunday Poetry
That was really nice...enjoyed reading every every part of it.
ReplyDeleteAs I am poet..this speaks to me!
ReplyDeleteweeks trample on each other like magazines
This spoke to me too...you expressed it exactly right. Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteYou just wouldn't be you without it!
ReplyDeleteI wish my poetry flowed as beautifully as yours.
ReplyDeleteAh, with the muse sitting right next to you, of course your words flow beautifully.
ReplyDeleteNicely done.
wonderful!
ReplyDeleteYour muse should feel flattered and honoured to have a poem dedicated to her.
ReplyDeleteI have a friend like that too but she's not talking to me at the moment - women!