Words keep coming to my head
Ever louder as they gather
Typing them has been fun
And ends in idle chatter
Each and every night I type
In one or more device
As typing words can quiet the pain
And the silence will suffice
But now I'm told my poems can't show
Or they will not pay the rent
Well, then I guess this one's for free
A gift to you I've sent
And tomorrow when you see the words
Take them to heart but not to pen
As this is one I will not sell
Trade or even lend
So if you read and like these words
That you can plainly read
You can't stop me from writing
Just don't publish me.
© Geoffrey Shelton