I spied a tuft of daisies
In the corner of my eye
When I was walking and
I might have passed them by
...
I'd love comments about my poems. What do they mean to you?)
The Imagination
Like a bird
out of sky
am I
the lonely drifter,
a dark blue storm of humanity
hanging on
too many thoughts
that weigh me down.
A swallow
with no song on her lips
am I
gently rise and fall
and fall
and fall
every cloud
a dream
that I chase,
but never realize.
Imagine
a moon so bright,
a love so deep,
as to chase away
the night
whenever the seasons
of loneliness
come.
but it's just that:
an imagination