Come in, it's lovely to see you. Pull up a cushion and stay as long as you like.

Sunday, 25 March 2012

In Me

I wrote this in 1996 but could easily have written it today, although my writing style has changed, grown even. Strange how things change so much yet, fundamantally, can  remain the same.

In me a poet sleeps
In me an artist lies
My soul for inspiration weeps
My heart for true love cries

In me a lover waits
In me a spirit tries
Calmly to find a gate
A way to reach the skies

In me a flower blooms
In me a bird flies free
In me my roots go deep
Like the tallest, strongest tree

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