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More than just me

Poetry is more It is not just leaves on the ground that the child piles up and jumps upon It is not just a lone woman's journey or an old man's lament It is not just anything Poetry is more Laughing rays of golden Heaven kisses Butterfly wings and Saints' remembered bliss True connects and all the other near misses Poetry is more Than you Than me Than the average angel eye can see

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

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Date: 11/1/2008 11:27:00 AM
Beautifully put; wonderfully true. Love this poem, Autumn. A wallow through the soup bears testimony to your well chosen words. Great that you got Saint's in there on All Saints day, but perhaps that was the spark that bore this fruit for us to enjoy. Love, Nigel
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