Monday, August 15, 2011
One may ask
…ah, but do you not see
Nothing in the world can make us feel
Like the language of poetry
It weaves bland words into a charm
Emotion, raw, unfurled
Leaves us trembling, aching, warm
The best hurt in the world
Well, I can only speak for me
But there is nothing
On the face of this earth
Quite like poetry
'Look!' said Victoria in amazement (a few days ago)
'I found a bunch of books where you wrote poems!'
'A-h-h-h, yes' I replied, 'the days before computer...'
'I wish you still did it like this' Victoria said
and all I could say was 'me too...me too' as I lifted the book
to inhale the scent of 'real poetry'... pages and ink...and memories...