The Troubadour.

My love he walks beneath the moon,

to follow stars across the plains

his future cast from times long past,

wrought in nature's beating pulse.

Each breath and breeze will call to him,

and he will weave for you, a dream.

Atop a mountain, arms upraised

he plucks some stardust from the skies;

to place within his poet's pen,

where truth and beauty coil in rhyme.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

As always, for ' D ' This is by coincedence my 200th poem, he has a very significant birthday coming up, I will post the one I wrote for that on the day itself, this one is a tribute to his life, and when I realised it was my 200th I wanted to post it now to mark his and my lifetime of writing.

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allets's picture

Beautiful Tribute Line

"...where truth and beauty coil..." loved this poem - one writer to another :D




sweetwater's picture

Thank you Stella, I would

Thank you Stella, I would like a different word to end that  line, I am not keen on  ' in rhyme' but can't think of anything suitable.