The Poet Spot
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a place of solace -meditation and devotion -joy.
When I was young
I longed to
be surrounded by trees,
water and flowers
without bees,for
fear I might get stung:
Overreacting I would run...
act a fool when I'd see one.
But no-matter
the price,bees or not,
I had to be in my poet spot.
My poet spot was there back in
the day,but now it is not.
The sun would undress me,
I'd just sit while the
soft breeze caressed me.
There I could ponder,
with the water trickling
underneath my feet.
No one knew this spot,
I'd always go alone,
so I could think
my selfish poet thoughts....
In my Poet spot,the spot
I deemed to be just for me!
Thinking clearly now,writing freely,
Breathing oxygen in,
I wrote so freely back then....
I'd put back on my clothes,
and dry off my feet,watch
a butterfly carefully....
I let the beetle free ,
who kept me company
against his will.
Made two Praying Mantis fight.
I knew this wasn't right to write.
Then I'd go home .
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2010
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