Our Nature

Inside the window of time
Within the words we know as rhyme
Lies a love so well defined
It comes in dreams like mystical chimes

To make us dance sometimes pine
Of what was forbidden in what we sought
It's not often one will shine
In the sculptured words we thought were lost

Writing to convey secrets within our hearts
To others who share these thoughts
At times we hit a nerve with what we impart
Impressions can be like grains of salt

Sometimes taken most often mislaid
But we as poets prod on it's our nature
Not worrying if our stanzas will fade
In a poetic sense our words becomes the feature

Written by: Roland R. Ruiz
November 12, 2009