A Poet's Eye

A Poet’s Eye Do you wonder what a poet sees Soft moss rocks and twisted trees A foggy mist, perhaps at dawn Imagining goes on and on Perhaps he sees an eerie sight Where love was lost some lonely night Or maybe creatures big and small Who through the underbrush do crawl A face, a foot, perhaps a limb A curse imposed on a wayward him Is there a stream, a babbled brook He begs a reader “stop and look” There’s more than what the eye can see If you just let your thoughts run free