How I admire the lyrical poetess!
She, who watches nature's beauty all around,
yearns to feel the wind of summer's soft caress
as she listens for the magic in its sound.
When she sits to write in peaceful, quiet hours,
from her realm of thought spring forth. . . pretty flowers
She plucks up each bright blossom, then sets them free
as blooms of the lyrics in her poetry.
(This is dedicated to my lyrical poetess friends at soup, of
whom there are more than a few!)
For "A Soup Member Worthy of a Tribute" Poetry contest
of Richard Lamoureux