By
Christopher J. Thomasson

He’s just
What I want to be.
A weaver of words
Is he.
His stories spill
From his lips.
Rolling off his tongue,
Those magic sounds
Fill our hungry minds
With this fools wisdom.
What places he’s been!
What tells he spins!
He’s just
What I want to be.

The End

Copyright March 2001 by Christopher J. Thomasson

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