And I wonder if there's any prettier way,
To retrieve myself from a state of astray,
To have me pour my feelings out from within,
My heart, on a sheet where I rest my chin.
Than this gift of poesy ,my forte,
My pal even when my hairs grow grey.
Beautifully my pen is yawning at the surface,
Inking my thoughts and emotions apace.
It pacifies my shivering fingers down,
And from my face, it inverts the veiled frown.
And I wonder how does it know it all?
Me being emotionally hijacked or battling a downfall?
Or when my heart is walking on the air ?
How does it get so unfiltered and bare?
So transport me to the lap of poethood ,
Whenever this heart needs to be deeply understood,
Whenever I'm perplexed about perplexities,
And you see, I'll be unchained from all the complexities.