If I could write a poem--
A poem as divine
As the poem of your face and of your soul--
I would never grow tired of reading it.
The poem of your life
Is like the sweet taste of peaches
And the scent of the season's first snow.
It is like a calming rustle
Through the tree-less field
That shines and shimmers in all the brightness of the summer.
It is Leaves of Grass;
It is Langston Hughes;
It is Dorothy Parker (on a good day...);
And maybe a light sprinkle of cummings
(when he was in a mood.)
Your poem has no beginning,
And there is no good place to end it--
Because no one would want to say "goodbye" to you
Were it to end.
No comments:
Post a Comment