Poetry

Harvesting of thoughts that fill the mind
Flourishing into words of every kind
Assembled into meaning profound or sublime
That in time may find meaning to remind

But unfortunately they are likely to be ignored
The dust cover books where they’ve been stored
Lying in wait for their potential reward
Of stimulating a mind otherwise bored

It is the punishment often paid for the given gift of word
An author’s sacrifice for the living chance to be heard
Though posthumously it is more likely to be served
A matter that will in no time soon, be cured.