Noon through night he sits alone
In his house of mud and stone
With nothing but his thoughts for company.
Yet he is happy in his world
Left alone to work his pen
Knowing that stumbling he will rise.
Smile in sunlight, sleep in moonlight
Write words absolute, brandy not dilute
From blank page, blank gaze, writes unrestrained.
(c) Chris Black. November 2018
#Poetry #amwriting #soundcloud
~The Poet’s Poet~
Hear a spoken word version @https://www.soundcloud.com/the-poets-poet-1