Robert H. Thayer Poems

Your roots torn free from the soil of your birth
No longer a prisoner of mother earth.
Adrift on a sea of perpetual motion
to be battered on the rocks, at the whims of the ocean
...

One dressed in gray
The other dressed in blue
Would meet upon this battlefield
Before the day was through.
...

As I stood outside my window
I saw reflections there
'Twas of a tranquil garden
With flowers everywhere.
...