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?