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