Sidney Beck Poet Quatrain

Home

HOME


The air in this glade is oft  cool, 
Given its life, its voice, its  muse
By a distant stream’s  swirling sound-pool  -
Like woodland fairies dancing on tissues.


This air  speaks soft  to me in unknown
Whispered language of the stream:
And its glad soothing tone
Recalls to mind a mother-dream.


My stormy soul oppressed
Is here set  completely  free
And  eased  and  balm-caressed:
This glade is home for me.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

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

Carol Sunshine Brown May 3, 2011 at 9:42 AM The poetry here at the Soup today is so diverse. It was a pleasure to read yours Syd. Have a wonderful day and may you find inspiration to continue writing always. Love, Carol