It is hard…
…to swallow those words
unwritten,
as they burn in our chest
but life bars us from ink sometimes
yet, love heeds its request
for need and duty steal our hands
and lips must smile
in spite
of unshed thought
burning our eyes
in words we long to write
but know they slip
into the mist
never to return
for inspiration is like this
a sudden poem
yearns
to see the light of day before
dissolving in thin air
and no one but the poet sees
it slowly disappear
and no one but a poet knows
that sorrowful good-bye
of words un-penned
drifting away
into the hollow sky
Janet~
Mary commented on how she has not been 'around' as much as she would choose
without time to read or write, due to...life. I felt her unspoken acceptance...
We've all been there, but love quiets and fills in our lives what nothing else can
and as for all the 'lost poems' . They are caught in those sudden half-breaths when love is so astounding
we don't know what to say...
