The sad Poet

The sad poet

He rises from his bed, sad memories from the past night still fill his groggy head. He slowly sips his morning brew, tears fall into his tea, from the brain’s pain of a lost love, not to be.

He thinks; quil, and ink, where are thee, my comfort, and, friend, embrace my sadness and pain, guide my hand, lift me from my sinking sand, take me to your special promised land.

Come, my favorite wine, take me to higher thoughts, reveal the joys of the divine. Ah, now my pen moves from line to line, a story starts to unwind, with words that my mouth can’t say, love always finds a way.

From the dephs of my soul, my penned words become very bold, and, now, through them, I am with you again, I pray that this time will never end.
As the evening shadows crawl, reality returns, but, my passion for you forever burns. Sadly, my ink has run dry, but, in my poetry, my love, we will, again be together, goodbye, tomorrow my lines will bring you back to my eyes.

Author Ken
January 30, 2019