Little Poems
There's freedom in a poem.
It's just a little leaf
or a feather floating by
on the breeze.
No one could ever take it too seriously.
It's far too small to really make a difference ... right?
So a poet can relax
and drift in tranquil waters
and set his paper boat to sail
upon a sea of clouds.
Because it's just a moment.
And surely there will be thousands more ... right?
How can one be weightless
unless they know
there's always another chance?
[... until there's not ...]
13 October 2024
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