A Shrouded Secret
If only I was a poet. I could portray the earth’s entire beauty And have my pen draw nature. But instead of lilies I find ivy That shrouds my potential And instead of the wind’s soft touch, I feel the heat from the fire of my trapped soul If only my stroke could show me my love And tell her that I miss her gentle touch. Yet my heart seems to take me to quiet pastures Only to lead me to a cliff and bid me adieu For you, my bitter flame, my sanity hangs on the edge Begging you to show me my future, so that my soul can rest today...