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I walk in between lines on a lonely road
My pen inks the best of what my thought says
Though the journey is unclear
But my pen writes while my thought leads the path
My fingers are never tired to thread where poets have passed

In the next line on my way to the lonely road
I deal with the words that help to disseminate my mission on the path
The words, my fingers write are the very truth you read when you come along with me

Every steps taken is led by my fingers
Every thoughts is led by my pen’s ink
The lonely road is where poets have journeyed through
Slicing words to suit and fit their lines in the path
And l am not the first of my kind
Great poets like Alfred Lord Tennyson journeyed through the lonely road

William Butler Yeats forsaw an lrish airman’s death on a lonely road
The aeolian sound of the wind hums as the trees give way when l walk on a lonely road
My pen and my thought walk on the path refreshed
But the journey is not an easy one.

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