You called me a poet

You called me a poet

But they were your words

Not mine

Everything worth doing

Was packed into a trunk

And shipped away

To who knows where

Like a child will chase

The rain

Or run after the coal man

Begging for the chance to sit

Next to him

On the seat

Behind a noble Shire

Just to hold the reins

For a moment

The call of innocence

Exempt from the blame

Of sorrow

At the loss of tomorrow

When the best of things

Was always

Located within

The language we reserved

For each other

There is no compensation

In knowledge

When the truth

Is to remain

Imprisoned

For all eternity

Unable to hear a word

For the resound of silence

Whisper me

It will be worth the wait

Of a hundred lifetimes

To know

Hope is still out there

Somewhere