Because poets can dream
The moon is made of lace
Sea of discovery,
The world of fantasy
The mind can travel free.
There is a line that's crossed
When poems come across
And sparkle inwardly.
Communicative spirit
More felt,
As ever free
And inner worlds
Do come across,
Surrealistically.
Reveling secrets
No one knows,
Except thru Poetry.
Sandra, an insightful write. Poetry is a time traveller from the begining with any way- stop, on any day.++10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice one..Poets freely express without boundaries