Poet Ages Poem by Cynthia Buhain-baello

Though Age is catching up on me
It cannot dry up the ink
From which I write consistently
Emotions felt and thoughts I think.

Hope is the winged dream I fly
To vast horizons it may soar,
While Pain is the dew, comes from my eye-
And Substance, the reason I'm here for.

Form contains the words conveyed
Perhaps some Rhyme may spice the piece,
But Happiness is the reward that laid
Its soft and gentle kiss to this.