THE POETWhen the dawn goes down to the Day Asce...

THE POET






When the dawn goes 
down to the Day

 Ascends the Sun to rinse
The earth's tray
Having survived a night
Mortals set to pray
Flora revives, buds smile
To muse they sway
In a lonely, forgotten
Gaunt cottage far away
A poet lost on his desk
As wreaths on a grave
On paper, his words lay
While the world
Picks morsel,
He shoves
Hunger at bay
Weaving verse
Keeps him gay
Dawn to the day
Then dusk, be it may
A poet remains a poet
Whatever you say.