Exiled… a poem

ink bottle on desk

Collect your treasures

Your papers and quills

Write about sunsets,

And oceans and hills

   

Sketch like the artist

Who lives in your heart

Abstract to some

To others – pure art

    

Break from the confines

That hold back your mind

Life, it is finite,

Live it in kind

   

Slow down and breathe

See through the eyes of a child

Recapture the magic

From darkness – exiled

Author: What Words May Come

Hopeless romantic; joker; father and grandfather; husband; sportsman; part-time writer;

21 thoughts on “Exiled… a poem”

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