The Laureate
I remember sitting among the poets in this place of arts
Where curved brushes painted blushes of artists open hearts
Our art could be confined to paper, but really it was meant to fly
Like a caged bird beats its wings, these words seek the sky
Only on the lips of faith, they leaped from the pages
And danced around the room, turning citizens into sages
Awakening something so deep, I forgot it was there
A hunger to create, and the pride to share
The words returned to the pages, content with its journey as proof
A smile touched her lips, after delivering such a truth
She quietly closed her book, as we laid there raw
For as much as we thought we knew, we were still left in awe
Of The Laureate
Copyright © Tahj Jones | Year Posted 2024
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