To the all the poets I’ve known,
To be blessed with a few words; it makes me humble.
It’s when I see the intellect around me;
it just fills me with rhyming and meaning and song,
I’m much of a writer, but I have a taste for it and fine verse.
Just a sheep in Wales, it inspires me,
So he gave me a pen, I will never cease to write,
He gave me a book, I will never cease to read,
And me gave back my life; so I will always love you.
To mother earth raised up,
To that all who will listened
Can you hear it when it speaks…
Grant me ears to hear, to write,
Although my lines are frail,
To my one heart, touched by a hymn,
To me that is poetry.