The writers of prose
The thinkers of things
The keepers of time
The scribes for the kings
They write not in verse
But their hand isn't lost
For their meaning is seen
Their symbols aren't crossed
And their place is as true
As a great laureate
Their message as valid
As anyone's yet
Though their feelings aren't clear
The facts they stand tall
And their purpose is served
When they answer the call
They work not in meter
Or neatly trimmed feet
But perfect every sentence
And make paragraphs neat
Where I would call rain
Tears from angels on high
They say, "precipitation"
From clouds in the sky
As I grapple for adverbs
Or fight with a phrase
They just say, "this is it"
And erase all the haze
No matter how different
Our tactics might be
Our goal is the same
To get people to see
As the facts they make known
And my feelings I show
We walk side by side
Making known what we know
(c) 2012 Norman Dziedzic Jr.
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