Beam To Me A Spot Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Beam to me a spot - so long time ago
With painted stories that aren't often told
That only pallet of colors still know
Though later through the moments shall get old
Somewhere in the sky of written words
Where stories come in shapeless black-drowned
And my thoughts are like the off gone flying birds
I have now in my empathy out gowned

Yellowing spread of memories leaves
The abysmally ripples of your saying
Those now sound to my essence fixed and strange
Yours many thoughts - like finger spreads cleaves
That in my heart of yesterday was playing
Like drops to the aquatic - dry will change