In the spirit of the incomparable Robert Frost, and a poem I learned in childhood.
My mind to arms to hands to oars to lake I cleave the sunrise glass-like surface, still With just my lonely friend, a mallard drake Thus set adrift, my thoughts, upon the wake So buoyed by the breath of morning's chill ... Oh, how I long to know the somber deep To let my weary soul sink with the bream But I have many vows that I must keep My web-toed friend and I have loves to reap And many lochs to row before we dream ... Yes, many lochs to row ... before we dream. ~ 1st Place ~ in the "Standard Contest Number 135 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor. ~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Rhyme Time II" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor.
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