A poet is born
When the sounds become quiet
the words dance,
capricious, multicolored, light
like stones thrown close to the water
in waves,
they dangle,
multiply.
The nameless,
love and death
budge in the images;
branches and flowers,
full of life..... rock
The poet is born
the only way he knows
holding to beauty
a poet is born
a poet is born
Last edited by Sandra on Tue Apr 19, 2005 5:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
