The Poet

The poet sits in a quiet room staring at an empty page
How to begin a final act when the whole world is a stage
Buried completely under a mountain of stray thoughts
Yet digging deeper for a treasure long since sought

Gilded eyes uncovering a clearing in the woods
Where a breeze as gentle as a silk clad hand is blowing through
Where a pair of eyes might finally meet in the cover of the shade
That's the power of
The words on a page

The moving sun tells the time across the sky
Days go by unnoticed past the poet's gilded eyes
Approaching stars whisper softly
Untold stories flutter by
A never ceasing stream

Gilded eyes uncovering a clearing in the woods
Where a breeze as gentle as a silk clad hand is blowing through
Where a pair of eyes might finally meet in the cover of the shade
That's the power of
The words on a page

Gilded eyes uncovering a clearing in the woods
Where a breeze as gentle as a silk clad hand is blowing through
Where a pair of eyes might finally meet in the cover of the shade
That's the power of the words on a page