Peter S. Quinn Poems

The fun is just starting,
So playful each can be;
Never from joy parting,
Playing so pleasurably.
...

The heart of autumn brown
And yellow hills today,
Once more: jewels and crown
In colors shadings play;
...

The river is flowing to the sea
Its water is clear and fresh,
Like the tinkering inside of me
That loosens up or enmesh.
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The rivers of time
Will find the future ways,
Within steps we climb
Fortune to us each plays;
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There is love in the hours,
A touch from a moment ago,
Like a summer full of flowers;
A heart is born to grow,
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There's a love song awaiting,
For the summer to come in;
Every old memory deleting,
That's not of the same spirit kin.
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There's a time
There's a reason,
There's a love song
For each season;
...

There are all kinds of everything,
But not for me, not for me;
There is that radio big thing,
But not for me, not for me;
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This time of peace and happiness
Gives this love to share
Each year it comes again fresh
Surrounding its love everywhere
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This time renews each moment like a blink
Though we walk in a world without a name,
With questions that attend to be the same
Each onward step to the future's like a brink;
...