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A poet who will mentor me
to the epiphany of clarity.

An editor with a
swashbuckling red pen
and a kind heart.

A loyal reader who downloads
my first book of poems.

A kindred spirit who has
time to read with empathy.

I can truly say that my
audience will crave poetry.

Maybe not even mine
but a story worth telling will
convince some one that iambic pentameter
or roses are red rhymes
are not my in my mind
when my thoughts
fly by.

Amanuensis Sobriquet-Reverie


Any thoughts on the above post are appreciated! Otherwise, I think I must be living under a rock.

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