Rumour has it

write

     There are many

amateur critics ready

to put you down

    You don’t have to

apologize

     for your life style

for your work

    for anyhing you do

    When the summer begins

to die

    Feel the winds of

September in your bones

     Let your creativity

grow like a late – blooming

    flower

    Now you feel

only the wind

    It doesn

t judge

you

     It frees your spirit

from the stifiling heat

     Let the sound of

trumpets

Reach your soul

Pick up a pen

    Tell them your hopes,

wishes, dreams

Let the critics talk

You are the

flowing river

of magic words