They pour from the heart to the page;
They build in the mind and the wedge.
Pain they touch, when there’s pain;
Gain they touch, when there’s gain,
Yet are they words, words, just words,
That immortal in the minds do sing,
For me, to me, to others long gone.
A bird, on the wing.
A sparrow, in the grass,
A dog, on the hunt;
Rain, in the skies-
Wind, in the trees
All, all sing a song
The fascination of poetry.
All sing of works,
The elusive power poetry.
©GayUganda 12 June 2008