2003 Poetry

His runes haven’t changed much

the rhymes and flows still

go hand and hand with the wind

that’s blowing my eyes

like the ripples on the sea

they dampen my eyes with affinity

Ah! those rhymes are like little bubbles

playing tricks as they vanish to the shore.

His fine lines, flowing like water

of sapphire crystalline, endeavoring to reach

the far bank, to play with the white sand.

Though at times, the color of the day is gray

the sun would appear through the touch of his quill

and daybreak beckons a vibrant golden orange appeal

Mr. Poet, come to me and show me how

to  write an ode that can lift a heart to the sky

they say it’s easier to pen a tragedy

than to paint a smile from the lips of a baby

Author's Notes/Comments: 

written 9/19/03

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