Nothing More

Not a student of Poetry,

  more a student of life

 

The words fell  before me,

  stepping-stones of delight

 

Not a student of Verse,

  but of musings inspired

 

My days withdrew inward,

  the years stoked and fired

 

Not a student of prose,

  but its lover the same

 

As words strung together,

  and called out my name

 

Not a Poet or Novelist,

  but a writer for sure

 

Verbal stepchild unnamed

  —asking for nothing more

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

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