Cry Not

Cry not for the poet
For the poet is immune to tears
He trickles down syllables
With his watered down ink
He sketches fountains and scribbles lakes
Words rush like waterfalls
Pages float
Soaked to the bone
Oceans apart
Ran out of salt
But water gushes
It’s only a mild case of emotional precipitation

©2008 Dosia McKay

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