Sometimes it's hard to explain where the words come from when we pen one of our pieces.
There is a ghost of a poet
That sometimes enters me
When I find no words to aptly pen
He gives words and phrases to me
I know not from where he comes
Or what era of life he's from
All I know is he gives to me
When all my words are gone
There's days that I don't need him
And of course there's some I do
I can tell when he's been here
His words come shining through
His poetic verse is dazzling
It amazes me when I'm done
I wonder if he coaxed me some
With each and every one
(C) Copyright Kirk Thomas 2011.
now that's a friendly ghost....and a talented one!!