Peter S. Quinn Poems

Minutes to the hours
No matter what we say
We are withering flowers
When the night comes to day
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The change of time
Affects us in days to come,
The future is unknown
Who knows where it's from?
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Winters blood will drip into the melting snow,
When again the colors of nature will show;
Tomorrow with fragrance of thousand shades,
That for a summer - without any fades.
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In deepest dark, a spirit moves a word,
In search of lights that floods on clouds from here;
There is no ending there for a songbird,
Just the clock, fate with time will know and share.
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The tune of full moon faraway,
With universal harmonies around;
Are lost again in each new day,
Even though it echoes in its sound.
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Something Somewhere,
Love and to much shadow;
Somewhere and everywhere,
Dreams come and go.
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Please tell me now if you are mine,
Then all we need's a magic hour;
To walk along in the sunshine,
Love's charisma and love's power.
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Some way somehow,
I'll reach out to you;
Here is my heart to give,
I hope it's pure and true.
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Passions grow up like flowers,
First the seed to soil will fall;
Then it's nursed with rain showers,
To grow big and tall.
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Every moment my heart is,
Full of lonesome dreams of you;
You gave me a good bye kiss,
Then you left me blue.
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