dont call me a poet
instead treat me
like a poem
spring, summer,
autumn or winter
i am mere leaf
that has taken
enough of sun
and now
swinging a
freedom from
the top of tree
to the lowest
smugly hugging
the fact that
ever ready
is a large land
wide as your arms
to embrace me
a warm, humble rest
after all the glory in the sun
Stunningly beautiful, John - always good to see your writing in this place!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A cosy analogy but poem or poet you can't cop out my man. You've been issued a non-revokable poetic licence and are ordered to practice in the interests of all humanity (or earth surfaces, if you prefer) . Regards, IDC