The poet stands on a corner br And faithfully heralds his cry br About the issues of life. br He speaks of flowers in bloom, br Of rhythm and of tune. br He speaks of love, hate, br Unity and debate. br He speaks of laughter, tears, br And of war-torn years. br He speaks of children at play, br And the plight of a rainy day. br He speaks of husband, wife, br And the joys of everyday life: br A leaf falling, the butterfly, br The coming of spring br And birds that fly. br Once, when asked with a faint sigh: br Why write a poem about hell? br “I’m a poet, ” was my reply, br “And I write about everything, br That’s why.” br br br *From: Reflections of Life. 1997.