Children of the Mind
The door is open
I stand there, hesitant,
Not fearful, but reluctant,
To present my "children of the mind"
To an audience of even, one,
Who might criticize or mock them.
Why do I dislike the words
Poet or poetry for the lines
That sing through my mind
With pictures, moods and thoughts
Even keeping sleep at bay.
I have no answer, but
I will send my "pieces" forth
To be welcomed or rejected
As the audience wills it.
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