What Poetry Means To Me
Poetry is a mark that slowly fades;
Marks which turn pages from yesterday's shades.
Poetry finds the expression of a lasting imprint;
Ever the Davidic songs share a shimmering glint.
The age of fruit of a pen does tell a maid.
Behind the ink comes a flint.
Without charades.
Words like these are privileged sent.
And words find wells
From the ink to the hearts of swell.
October 23 2016
Copyright © Christy Teas | Year Posted 2016
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