The End

Poetry,

Every string has it
Follow any path
Even turn around
Come back again
Journeys recorded
Experiences are had
Animals do not
Concern themselves
With tomorrow or
What it might bring
They live the moment
No sequels
Part two and three
Never trying to reach
Or understand
Cannot escape
What we all
Must face
The end

Love

Love, Poetry, , , , ,

Try
Many have
With words
Expressions to
Give fullness
To that which
Aches, begs
Yearns of
Feeling

Understand
Best Of sentiment
Cannot bestow
Justice true
To a soul
Knowing
Finally
That one of
A lifetime

The Appearance of Fragile

Poetry, , , , , , ,

Say fragile, softly on my ear;
With care and lovely delicacy
A glimpse of Robin’s egg blue
Nested in the fine and discarded
Twigs, grasses, bits of trash
Formed into a womb under
The eave or leafy branch

Hear fragile gently from lips
In kindness and due regard
The thought of blown glass
Twirling patterns of light
Dangling as ornaments
Snowflakes and stars
Amongst the boughs of fir

Feel fragile gracefully placed
Through the airy light waves
A memory of a feather’s touch
Light graze upon the skin
Gliding into almost tickles
Chills and holding a breath
Under night’s downy cover

Know fragile, moving in firm belief
A house of cards deck upon deck
The spiders web touched in
Morning’s dew stretched taut
The heart waiting for her love’s return
Will not break when irreverent
Only disregard he shows