Val Brooklyn Rogers Poems

It must be true love because it was beyond the cherry trees we first
Met and embraced one another in those CRYSTAL days. So unsure and
Fond one of the other.
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A question of importance.
Scrawled across the midnight
Wall.
How many stars and moons does
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Is a kiss a kiss when in the air
And ever care where it FALLS blown
By one who loathes missing.
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Every day may not be perfect, therefore
In a single day I hope to see you every hour.
In a single hour I hope to set my sight
On you every minute.
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Lock down Limping Grove.
PIRATES have stolen the treasure trove.
I know all about the garden shed.
How you hide and make your bed.
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Every LITTLE simple minute
Seems so much more.
As though it has designs
Within it present from
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Born from a cocoon.
Glorious wings of BLESSED colors.
I am in flight, gliding and diving.
In the midst of summer skies.
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The obscure one reeks of peasantry.
Instead of pleasantries.
Who only congregates in the
Ghettos of hopelessness.
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A poet walks on the fame of his
Name every little moment.
It is their DESTINY TO BE what
They are, a spectacle among their peers.
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