The Darkness Is Of A Personal Way Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The darkness is of a personal way
Showing corners with their true moon shadows
There are feelings of tinctures and gray
Among their screened-off area and flows
In the intractable graveyards we behold
Useless marbles we're surrounded by
Like dark to lemon blossoms will enfold
All their dreaming in a realistic sky

There's no entombment for a spring flower
It must just grow on for its true flourish
Ages don't count nor their vanishing ways
For dreams are compartments each for the hour
That passion and its quietness shall nourish
If a heart finds its flames - and craves