A Poets Journey Poem by Bill Cantrell

Sometimes I choose to cloak a poem,
hiding riddles deep within
Seek and you will surely find,
The truth is wearing a grin

When a poet has matured,
and he sees the edge of time
The fear of death awaits them,
so they hide between the lines

As the sun is rising from his bed,
they hang their words to dry
Some are sitting year to year
until a reader passes by

They crawl out of their trenches
Speaking the writers heart
They hear of those rejected,
singing dirges in the dark

Blood and sweat,
some regrets,
these are the cobblestones of our days
My favorite poems,
I treasure most,
were friends I met along the way