" Brethren Of The Pen "
If real poets did exist
what would they write about?
Would they tell of love and war,
of all our fear and doubt?
When honored quill and parchment meet
what thoughts will they impart?
For what is flowing from that quill
is coming from the heart.
A real poet, I've not met
for many are now dead.
I think they died of broken hearts
and things they'd left unsaid.
I've often wondered what they'd write
if given one more year?
Things appear quite differently
when death is lurking near.
Would beauty be more clearly seen,
what would the eyes behold?
Would falling leaves still bring them joy
in shades of red and gold?
If real poets do exist
we all shall share the name
for life is still the common thread
that makes us all the same.