The Poet’s Struggle (poem by me)

If only my body had no need of sleep,
Unceasingly, I would write poetry
The fragrance of my words like potpourri,
Stirring the angels to weep.
Why do I waste my time?
Arranging words in symmetry,
Guaranteeing poverty and obscurity,
On such a trivial pastime.
I will stop writing today alas,
No wait, I'll stop tomorrow,
First let me express my sorrow,
In a touching epitaph.

*Volunteer authors made this free ebook possible. Check it out:  Beseeching Grace: An International Prayer Collection.

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