The words of love are not for me today
This humble poet accepts that advice
Such ways of the heart can only confuse
And a creative pen must pay the price
While building castles in the skies of grey
Her desire for expressions in the dark
She wants the words that speak of pain and fear
A poet must bleed his veins for his muse
To feel her touch again as she draws near
In her eyes, I see inspiration’s spark
I know a sonnet is a lover’s song
To one who has a poet’s heart in hand
But today, to my muse the words belong
It’s love I guess, but not as I had planned
©JG Farmer 2018
Form: Busta Sonetto
A Garret Poet 