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The Poet


The Poet

-Linda Lee Lyberg

The house is quiet so I write
While my Viking soundly sleeps
My rambling mind soars, takes flight
As my humble pencil weeps.

Graphite words flow from my muse
It seems I have a blessed gift
For my soul will never refuse
My head’s desire to eternally drift.


My seed ideas ascend to the sky
And back again to softly land
Then from my fertile mind they fly
To the lowly pencil in my hand.


So I share with all the world
A glimpse inside of me
As my wings with joy unfurl
I set my true inner poet free.
Linda Lee Lyberg

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