Poetical Talents Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Breeze blowing gently across my face, waking me from a reverie.
Sitting and thinking deeply about what is going on
everywhere but here.
Time is always so all-consuming when it's someone
else's.
Our own time has ways of moving with just a whim.
Wanting to do something - it gets done - but not now
when someone else wants it.
There are certain limits to the extent we want to go in
all phases of our lives.
Mine aren't very structured and I doubt if I know what
they are, because I don't care to set boundaries on my talents.
They are ever-increasing and need no one to tell them
where to go or when to stop.
Talent is a reaching out beyond whatever you have done
before, it is always reaching - yet never grasps what
may be stagnating there.
Always, going beyond what others think is the end.
That is the sign of a real poet.