Mind of a poet, Beautiful like sound of a duet Under the palm trees, As he jots, he feels the wind's soothing breeze, Where the shape of his voice, Utters glamour of his thoughts in the hearts of men His mind, always in rhythm with paper and pen, Yes that's right, his heart, a canvas that paints words into art, as poetic lines are carved on it's cart Even if written in shards, the words gleam the pieces together