Blank canvass of my notebook beckoning for ink

Eager pages spread open wide

Awaiting a soft brush of my wrist

To warm the sheets

Like a lover returning

With my poetic endearments, whispering

To the memory of trees between blue lines

“Remember when you drank sunlight

Sweet rain quenching your fire

Allow my words to hold you, again you will root

Deeply into earth.”

And the paper rustles in the wind

Dancing in from an open window

A forest of pages sings once more

Her Swansong into the ether

As a canvass comes to life

In a poet’s wayward dream


Share Your Thoughts...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s