Oh yes! Poetry is still alive and well,
And in these modern times a poet may tell
By picking up any near-by pen
To express the beauty felt with-in.
Of these often troubled times,
A quiet place to compose rhymes
Blocks out the chaos of the day,
And lets the beauty steal away.
Tranquil waves upon the shore makes silence fall
On dirty city streets where roaches crawl.
The lovely mountain mist roams unaware
Of the voggy, sultry, humid air.
The graceful movements as cotton clouds drift by
Alas, defers to ‘Time’ on a pedestal set high.
Yet moments stolen from a hectic day
Keeps poet’s hearts safe from the fray.
© 2012 Connie Marcum Wong