Poets
will give you Springtime bound in an old journal
when the flowers have become dust,
They are Students of the Cosmos,
armed with satchels of Imagination
They write in the Language of the Soul with the blue of the sky when their
ink runs dry,
they borrow words on a lease from Nature and
leave Offerings of Art at her altar, and
they give faces to Love, Kindness, Peace and Hate.
©artemiswrites