A Few Words
The seat of judgment lies
Within those cloistered walls
Take their shape.
I have no cause
To enter there with you
Through our words
The warmth of IT
And I know
From the self-same source
What a myriad tapestry
We weave -
Each his own design and color
Each moving where he wills!
This is the reality of IT -
IT IS HERE NOW ALWAYS.
What we take of IT,
What we make of IT,
That is the question!
That is life!
© M. Barrett – all rights reserved
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Comments about this poem (A Few Words by Mike Barrett )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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