My Hand and it's digits
Are required for my fidgets
My toes and my feet
For pacing the street
My eardrums are playing
The words that I'm saying
Repeating them nightly
In my dreams
My fashionable clothes
The Smell from my nose
All combine with my being
My eyes left for seeing
My laughter, my tears
Help me get through the years
All the time
My rhymes, at the time
Begin as if they're benign
I'm given a sign
A word, might be fine
By the time it's complete
I'm up off my seat
And seeking something new
To rhyme, is to fidget
Penned by my digits
Yet again it's complete
Like the smell from my feet
And yet I'm still trying
Typing and rhyming
Perfection I seek
Unable to speak
Just using my mind
All of the time.
All of the time.
In my head they are.
Some alone, some together
I hope,
They're forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem