Colin F. Jones

NOTHING MORE TO GIVE

Towards what end do I write my verse,
It all belongs to those who wish to read.
Though none of it I study nor rehearse,
It germinates in me an unknown seed.
I do not gain much joy from my muse,
For it reflects the life that most endure,
I’m just a ship upon a special cruise,
Seeking truths elusive golden shore.
Look, what I write may not be my view,
Tis simply that I probe for a reply,
And it’s amusing for some folk do,
Though not in ways that I may desire.
Still, it serves its purpose while I live,
For really I have nothing more to give.