The Poem

The poignant verse awaits my hand
The stillness of the paper stands

The beauty of the melody
Weaves its notes so steadily

The dance of all inside begins
The pen then moves, the mind then spins

Meandering across the page
An actress on her familiar stage
With unsaid lines and unplayed scenes
A spilling of her inner dreams

The driving force behind the ink
Emotions to feel, thoughts to think

The ending in sight but not there yet
Finale has not quite been met

Still to sew that final thought
The inspiration cannot be taught.

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Tracy Windross
Apr 8 2020

2
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