Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.17.76.136

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

Not an audible sound but an attention getter nonetheless
An inspiration, an impression, a message, a voice of sorts
It came out of nowhere, from somewhere, from a special place
It entered my ears, my mind, my spirit, the corridors of my heart
Now would be a good time for answers because all I have are questions
Was I to be a recepticle, a storage unit, a temporary holding place?
Was it to me, for me, about me, or to, for, and about someone else?

Three words were emphatically deposited into my sensory system, and
Lest I busy myself and allow them to be forgotten, I quickly recorded them.
 "It's not over" were the three potent words that arrested and captured me.
It was as if a little birdie came to lite on the side mirror of my vehicle as I was
Sitting in wait for my wife.  It was as if I asked the little birdie for the meaning 
of the three words he delivered to me, and his reply was, "Sorry,
that's all I've got" and flew away.                                                          

My mind then went to the baseball World Series of 1988.
The score is 4 to 3 in favor of visiting team; facing the best "closer" in baseball,the home team is at bat with two outs and runner on second in the Bottom of the ninth. It's all but over, but it's not over. Batter, who can barely
Run, hits home run. Home team wins 5 to 4.  Now It's Over!

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required