So many times Iíve sat alone and pondered
And wondered why I felt so quite aloof,
I see meadows of the mind where I have wandered,
And the joy of such is my own living proof.
I see again some tranquil crystal waters,
As time now turns the wheel of my imagination,
Moonbeams and magic creep in from different quarters,
Leaving me enveloped in a feeling of elation.
So many times Iíve walked some peaceful pathway
Thatís led me far away from all my friends,
And then I return again to quietly face the fray,
In the silent hope that I might make amends.
Every time I search for some elusive magic phrase
Or wondrous words that come within my grope,
Itís like a rainbow that one sees on showery days
A vanishing bridge to heaven, filled with hope.
Words are thoughts that our mind will always paint,
Like some glistening glade in May-timeís morning dew,
And we wonder at its magic that will in time grow faint
And we marvel in the day that breaks anew.
With terms of eloquence, comes the need to write,
To share the magic of the expansive written word
And in sharing, should the words be dull or bright,
Their importance most certainly cannot be deferred.
For every time I cried and felt myself alone,
Like some lost soul that knew not where to look,
The inner truth is a thing that I cannot postpone,
So to enjoy all those wondrous words, Iíll write a book.