This Poet’s Life is Love

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“A poet’s death is life”

I’ve heard it often said,

A poet’s work revered

Only when he is dead.,

 

For some this may be true

Who write for wealth and fame.

Some have other motives

For all are not the same.

 

Some write for accolades

To laud themselves above.

I write to please the one

That holds my heart in love.

 

This poet’s death would be

A sorrow to his heart.

To die would signify

That we would have to part.

 

This poet’s life is love,

The intercourse we share.

This poet’s words, to show

You are my only care.

 

If poets do not live

Until the death bell chimes

This poet’s born his fruit

Before the harvest time.

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