Poet Write
The sweet smell of the fertile night
My poet hand begin to write
Head in hands; brain recite
Tonight, falling crystal delight
Outside my window shade site
The shadow is cast
And my poet mind is in a blast
Now my memory jolts at last
Found changing words, I hast
Shivers run up the spine fast
Tonight is its creation own
Dreams flaunt, taunt, in dream zone
Of making poetry rhyme and verse tone
To the jingle on my page poesy throne
Finally, midnight ode' in witching hour shown
© daniel miltz
