PRESERVE THE RHYME

My thoughts are captured
I know it’s time
to let my friends
into my rhyme,
to close my eyes
see what’s in store
a wondrous world
for me to explore,
just letting my
pen flow in my hand
as I journey through
this creative land.
 
I spot her there
beside the tree,
her long back hair
another me.
She’s standing silent
then walks away,
I don’t quite hear
what she had to say,
just the "come on" as
she opened the gate,
there was something
important to communicate.
 
I followed her slowly
as if under a spell.
compelled to find out
what it was she could tell
me, there wasn’t a thought
about anything at all as we
passed through the doorway,
travelled down the hall,
through many dark corridors
until we were there
looking at the old man
with a beard and long hair.
 
He was in a room
with books on the wall,
a natural reader
he was open to all.
Holding a scroll
with a serious face,
he turned to see
us in his space.
 
“I’m so glad you’re here,
we don’t have much time,
we have to work fast
to preserve the rhyme,
the ancestors left us
this task to complete,
we need a new rhyme,
no words can repeat.
 
This scroll which I hold
tells me of a place,
a distant land where
the look on your face,
the tone of your voice,
gives the inhabitants
no other choice
than to smile and be happy
as they laugh and sing,
never worried or stressed
about anything."
 
Morganpoet