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Poetry: “Meta”

Another poem on poetry, yep.

***~***~***~***

Meta

I hoard in silence
Words of gold
Held closely
To my breast
To string anew
On tinsel threads
In verse or not
That’s how it goes
The poet’s craft
A lonely one
We chip away
Were’er we are
Without the fame
Some writers get
But satisfaction
In that task
Of stringing words
Oh, on and on
Until our minds
Will let us rest

***

Copyright © 2018 · All Rights Reserved · Fantasy Transcendent

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