I wake up thinking only in rhyme
Why does this happen all the time?

The poems emerge with little thought
Others efforts to rhyme hard fought

A simple talent I seem to have
A family heirloom descended perhaps

I wonder how many have this gift
I can write just looking at lake mist

The gift of writing an old-time skill
For me not lost, but here still

I work each day on creativity
Unknown worlds of poems I see

A gift of poetry I have always had
Time to use it, it isn’t bad

A gift worth sharing for all to see
Won’t you join in rhyming with me?