They say I am so very blessed
To know the art of verse
But let me tell you, readers all
There also is a curse
For none shall know the poet’s heart
or scarce can feel the lines
Nor can the poet have full joy
Without her equal kind
No ear can know the rhythm full
No soul can hold the depth
Unless the poet’s heart have ye
And with it ye have wept
The sadness for the poet comes
When her equal is not seen
For unless they have a poet’s heart
They cannot grasp the dream
So I may write of sorrowed times
And joyful days of glee
But while I pen,
I mourn my life
For where is the rhyme for me.
© Kimberly Jo Smith