I feel the makings of a poem
Like a whisper first
As the muse is wont to do
Not demanding of me
The act of poetry
But giving it like a gift
And dare say I
That so it is
And one I happily share
For it is I think
Nay know in fact
That it is my best
Of the best I can do
So it only seems right
That I be a chosen knight
Of this great fine art
And invite to you
To read of me
As a win for the both of us
It can only only be
Yes you for the joy of reading well
And me for the coin
As I sell sell sell
Because every a one of us
We need that thing that money is
And since at it I'm good
It's understood
That this is what I wish to do
I felt the makings of poem
So I heeded the call
And wrote what I wrote
Knowing all the while
You'd like it because
It was written well
Charles Petrie
