*****The Poet Dream*****

In the silence, of a warm summer night,
Like a child, in the womb, secured,
A poet had a dream,
Visioned himself, gently soaring on a quest.

Reaching for verses and rhymes
As they passed him by,
On the wings, of pegasus,
Giving chase, in a slow moving dream.

In his mind, he sculptured and sketched,
Ideas and thoughts,
Molding them, into fine art,
The art, of writing from the heart.

Born were his odes, to be told,
His poems to read,
sonnets to be written,
With a soft quill, From the wings of pegasus.

Honored, will the poet be,
By scholars and interllectuals,
Whom shall read and recite,
His writing and deeds.

By William Bonilla......10/11/02