The Wordsmith
My soul is made of words,
A beautiful tapestry
Woven of letters in flowing strands.
The poetry comes forth effortlessly,
Calming phrases meant to soothe
Others chill the soul with dark beauty.
I must write; ‘tis inherited.
The bard within, echoes past
Pass down tales through generations.
A wordsmith by birthright,
The plumed quill bred in the bone
Crafts comforting prose by lamplight.
Nicky Foster is a writer and poet from Kansas City, Missouri speaking out for those unable to be heard.
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