Poetic
- The poets dance 'round
the flower of words they've found
while the jesters joke
with the common folk,
and wonder, where it's all bound -
- Who would possibly know
when it all could go
like fog on a pond
and magic in a wand,
the dark of night fades with the roosters crow -
- Words are just a little gift
meant to lift
merely hitching brief rides
closer to where Mystery resides,
as poetically life goes on... bit-by-bit.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
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