The poet sees the world through other eyes,
His vision fixed beyond horizon’s span,
He walks imagination in disguise
And sees behind the humble mask of man.
Where artists fix a vision in a frame
To hold a mirror for the world to gaze,
The storyteller weaves of words a game
That leave a trail to lead them through the maze.
The poet’s vision knows no earthly bound;
From high to low, wherever thought may lead,
He writes a garden where his truth is found
And from its flowers sows for us a seed.
Such bounty may be gathered from his story
To strew a path of petals home to glory.