Through My Poetic Lense. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

My thoughts don't walk the usual street,
They wander paths a little neat,
Or maybe wild, you never know,
Where these peculiar feelings go.

The world outside, a busy hum,
For me, it sounds a little numb.
I listen, watch, but in my head,
A different story's often bred.

The sunshine bright, the falling rain,
A happy smile, a passing pain,
The radio's news, a whispered sigh,
All find a place beneath my sky.

They weave themselves, a tangled thread,
Into the words that fill my head.
A poem blooms, it needs to fly,
For someone else to see and try.

To find a piece of what I feel,
A kindred spirit, true and real.
Who understands this quiet space,
And sees their own in this strange place.