Peter S. Quinn Poems

To you I sing
My song in words
A playful feeling
Like the wind in trees
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Voyages to the heart
Never to be fulfilled or done
Beginnings of truth and each start
Into the disseminate gone
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You are one way -
I am the other -
That is how differences are:
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Roses are coming so sweet
Into the perfumed night
Gently them smell and treat
On to their summer’s bright
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Each, has only one poem in him,
And it is written each time:
Over and over with different words,
Seeing each moment so differently,
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I hear voices within me,
They say you must continue to sing
And everything is like we see
And sometimes good fortune it can bring;
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For every meaning
There is a word,
For every word
There is a meaning,
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Remembering autumn
That evening blooming song,
With daydreams desideratum
Where lost longings belong;
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Manifestly refined
Each thread life weaves,
They come to be assigned
In gladness or grieves;
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Sky in afternoon's fire
The faraway horizon gown,
With longings and desire
In sun settling crown;
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