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Description
My eye, it sees what’s in front of it.
At my desk I think, alone I sit.
My thoughts run, my mad wit.
I crack my fingers, time to write a bit.

The clicking of a keyboard, my heart sinks.
My eyes look long into the screen, pupils shrink.
On this digital display, the fresh running ink.
Tears come long and hard, my eyes are pink.

I hope for the best, that this will do.
That people love it, the crowd wont scream boo.
I hope for something fresh, something new.
I hope that it will not act like poo.

My rhymes, they are bad.
My thoughts are true,
though they are quite mad.
Will they read, who?

I look to you, the simple lad.
Or lady, who is quite cross.
Don’t be sad,
that my poems grow moss.

You give them life, and me hope.
Thank you, from my heart.
The taste of hope is tart,
the sour, I can cope.
I’d hate to part.
I will stand, I will not mope!
Im gone, in the racing cart!

I look to you, I bow my head.
Thank you, so very much.
Enough has been said.

Thanks...

Description
My eye, it sees what’s in front of it.
At my desk I think, alone I sit.
My thoughts run, my mad wit.
I crack my fingers, time to write a bit.

The clicking of a keyboard, my heart sinks.
My eyes look long into the screen, pupils shrink.
On this digital display, the fresh running ink.
Tears come long and hard, my eyes are pink.

I hope for the best, that this will do.
That people love it, the crowd wont scream boo.
I hope for something fresh, something new.
I hope that it will not act like poo.

My rhymes, they are bad.
My thoughts are true,
though they are quite mad.
Will they read, who?

I look to you, the simple lad.
Or lady, who is quite cross.
Don’t be sad,
that my poems grow moss.

You give them life, and me hope.
Thank you, from my heart.
The taste of hope is tart,
the sour, I can cope.
I’d hate to part.
I will stand, I will not mope!
Im gone, in the racing cart!

I look to you, I bow my head.
Thank you, so very much.
Enough has been said.

Thanks...