BARDS:

From the trouble of the world I turn to Bards,

Away from broken dreams of shattered shards,

Those scribes whom cosset my weary old soul,

It´s to them I go, to make me once again whole.

I seek rhymed succor, in their soft imbibed words,

I sip from their chalices & fly high with their birds,

I lay prone sweating, on their beds of vowed love,

When I am broken, with verse, they lift me above.

When battered & tattered, by broken promise & rain,

When stamped on & slapped, with words of cruel pain,

And when my life is unbearable & so intolerably hard,

I turn in my yearning, to my only friends, true loyal Bards.