The Passion
The Passion
It was a burning need
the desire to hold and hoard
not cars or rare antiques
but small and natural things
coloured stones from a beach
pales driftwood’s sculpted forms
parrots’ feathers of every hue
and discarded skin of a snake
such wonders of diversity
a bower built of treasured finds
until they overwhelmed my home
overtook the room for me.
Copyright © Michele Fermanis-Winward | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment