The place of stillness eludes me
That place where poetry is made
The spaces between
‘A pocket of peace
Unpressed by time of man
But ruled by time of day’
But that was in another poem
Another time
Another space
A garden
Where my soul longs
Where things are made
Where life begins
and ends
Dear Katherine, That is a very fine poem. It even contains the stillness that it claims is eluding it. That's a hell of a trick. I love it.
ReplyDeletevery lovely indeed :)
ReplyDeleteThank you both. Am honoured
ReplyDelete