A Welcome For My Guests

My head is like a grand hotel, The guests arrive, one by one, Some with great accomplishments, Others are allowed just for fun They come with gifts of poetry, Some regale me with their song; They're all gifted and interesting, To evict them would just be wrong I graciously accept their gifts, In return, I give them a home; And every now and then I embark On the writing of another poem If not for them, where would I be? There'd be no reason or rhyme; There'd be no music within these walls, Ideas, just drifting through time Was it the gypsy who wandered in That caused this urge to roam? But, oh, how he commands that violin! How could I send him home? I admire you all and bid you stay, A group so witty and cunning; A special thanks to the taxi driver That keeps the meter running! And so, my guests, I make a toast: A finer group I've never met; You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Or until I grow old and forget