He writes the words From his heart

Never sacrificing From the start

 

He writes of what He does feel

He writes of What he sees as real

 

Never minding what Others say

He writes For himself, always

 

And he loves to write And he writes And he feels

 

The words flow Out of his head

Reflections, on what He may have said

 

He writes of good times And some sad

But they need their voice And so he is glad

 

He writes of What he dreams

Not always knowing What it means

 

But he loves to write And he writes And he dreams

 

This poet, This man, This boy

His muse always Requires his joy

 

And so she plants The flow and rhythm Within him

 

And he writes And he loves to write And so he writes

​