I see you reaching to turn the page past
I see you bequeathing a grimace
All I can do is wickedly laugh
Stop reading so much & drop your mask

Reread their poems
Re-listen to their songs
Listen to Beethoven
Keep, near, Mr. Frost

Close your eyes & recite their lines
Feel their pain at that moment in time
Call upon your muses so shy
Give you the ability to, also, touch that sky

Convey your words that swim the mind
No need to force so many of an exercise
Why torture your memories mind’s eye
Dribble from another’s demise; surprised?

Written in the sands; the hands of time
It’s not always about the rhyme but sign
Memorization nor cloth to ever make the poet
It’s what YOU make of, the most of it!