Having traversed all mountains and valleys of life
The great poet is given audience
Poetry is his speech, song and message
And from the great poet, an enchanting spell
Magic that amuses his listeners
Although sometimes it makes them cry.

The drum in the background helps out
There's a poem for every season and event
The great one senses the need for a jovial mood
Yet some days it could be a stream of tears
The right poem for the season
Is medicine to an afflicted soul.

With relaxed movements and gesticulation
The poet stresses articulately
Fearing not the eyes of his audience
He fills his listeners with awe and disbelief
And his apparel emphasizes his message
He casts his mysterious spell once again

He shivers slightly on stage
But has ways to regain confidence
His audience is silent as death
So he pauses for the silence to speak before him
Speech is silver, but silence is golden
And probably speaks louder than the poet himself.

Everyone is eager to understand
Some grasp lines to call their own
All enchanted, forget about life for a while
And hold on unintentionally to the truth
The great poet's box of spells is exhausted
So he miraculously diffuses away from the stage
As an uproar of suspense follows him.