The unsung author

Look at the heavy bags, carried by your eyes,

For unsung authors, this is always their prize

Ive seen you work long, drawn, and tired

Your passion gave move, your mind was fired.

I stood, observed, in contemplation

That terrible perpetual infatuation,

For your pencil, stencil, ink and art,

A puzzle you mount, from pieces apart,

The fastened result, always the same,

Your work carries fame, without a name.

But I know it, in life, to never forget

Those hands and face, my heart beset.

That drawn out work, unmentioned by peers.

In those working nights, youll have my ears.

My eyes, my lips, and my tender caress.

Come lil artist, you earned your rest.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4jkeir/art_lessons/d37p0i5 https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4j26v6/more_than_a_man/d341qpd