Raise a glass to all the poets

who had whole worlds to share;

inky love blooming on the paper,

woven words of life and joy,

musings of lost mystical lands so far away,

brighter than the Moon with people just as fair;

every thought and emotion hidden behind flowing sonnets,

like blood coursing through veins, heart also coy,

many moments unwritten or incomplete, left for later,

never to find out what they had to say.