I tell you of a poets curse

Whose heart is full of pain

I open up my memory purse

All is obscured by rain

For it dost work me woe

To pen such verse

While all athirst

For those whom I miss so

Yet write I must

Or else I’d bust

Being overfilled with feeling

What else to do

But count the dust

That gathers on my ceiling?

A soul must closely listen

Discern a full heart glisten

Sweating tears of passion

For the one it loves

A silky ribbon

Runs through my being

Onto the page it flows

Tis more important than my seeing

And warms me to my toes

She makes my heart to yen

This lover in my head

She’s the poet in my pen

Who snugs me in my bed

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