Peter S. Quinn Poems

Fragile and small things,
They mean all so very much
- Indian summer.
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Adore this beauty,
For it will soon be over
- Nuance of the sky.
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I'll have to go,
Before you know;
For the show must go on,
And my time is now done.
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The night is lonesome,
Like sometimes I'm too;
Hours dark and hidden,
My heart belongs, in blue.
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I believe in dreams to come,
I believe in them one by one;
Like the stars glisten white,
Dusting gold into our sight.
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Now day is bright and young of summer song,
For June is here and so sweetly singing;
Colors are brighten or coming on strong,
Each shade so deferent in now is bringing.
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The clouds in the sky are always changing,
And everything comes, and then it all goes;
We love doing sketches and then rearranging,
From whatever thinking our seed then grows.
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Like the moon is moon and the sun is sun,
The meaning is not all within the word;
For some, have meaning of only two third,
Or a meaning is more than twofold one.
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The moments come and leave before we know,
And nothing here forever stays the same;
These instants are like tides of sea that flow,
Or a distant light of a twinkling flame.
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Sea is deep and wide,
With splash and a forceful might,
Billows on reefs died!
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