The Story Teller

The Story Teller

Long before I could ever trust my pen,
To touch this sacred void of white,
I wrote with passion, the thoughts of men,
Upon the pages of my heart each night.

There hidden are tales the fishermen told,
Brought in from where the albatross soars.
Fine spun stories, of pirates treasure and gold,
New found, ancient scrolls,lost in tragic wars.

Tears tend to intensify, as I attempt to write,
Pictures painted with words for all to view.
Conveying on paper, laughter, pain and fright,
To move the deepest unstirred parts of you.

Do you care to hear, or truly,do you want to know
Why some good men never can, really ever be free?
Or why some little children, carry great tales of woe?
Come now, I’ll tell, just sit down at my knee.

For without a story teller to share,
The secrets, revealed from around the globe,
Good or bad, the truth would not be there,
To stab our hearts, and free the mind to probe.

05 28 02
Nitequill
Entered in
Stormys contest