T-day paper,
Little color bits fuel
A hunger never filled
Something precious dies.
Preface
Perhaps this is my task in life
To filter things that touch a soul
And to hold the strains till a pen can mold
Feeling into form.
Your last name becomes you, for you speak the language of poetry with much grace. Warm regards, Sandra
This is a beautifully articulated explanation of the poet's craft (art) . I look forward to sharing the result. love, Allie xxxx
Feeling you transmit superbly into form. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice. Peace, L&T