by Sherri

Bumble buzzes then hums away,

Heavy flight in busy day.

Lizard lounges in the sun,

Fleeting nap has just begun.

Hummer flits from cup to cup,

Sipping nectar for his sup.

The garden lives and in its arms

I find my soul, and my heart warms.

Poetry it seems to me,

Is just another way to free,

My soul and give to it a voice.

But with that comes a heavy choice,

Silent evermore to stay,

And safe from what the others say.

Or singing out, to say what’s here,

Never minding my own fear.

To let it out and let it go,

Takes bravery, don’t you know?

Strength and courage it takes for me,

To let you in, my soul to see.

But sitting back so silently,

Cannot continue, will not be.

Voiceless years ate up my life,

Too much to do, and too much strife.

Writing was not meant to be,

Smacking of frivolity.

But now I write, discov’ring late,

That writing heals when strife is great.

I sing my songs and set them free,

No matter what you may think of me

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