Wordsmith

by Jem Croucher

 

Deep in the silence
of a warm summer night
I encountered a thought
and held on to it tight

With lucidity
born of an erudite mind
It was something quite special
for me to find

For it spoke of a gift
bequeathed to a few
Which, when spoken aloud
would give birth to the new

The craft of a wordsmith
writing a verse
Born of the one
but to many dispersed

Then, humbled I realised
that the wordsmith was me
And that these words I was writing
were the ones to set free.

 

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