One thousand, five hundred and thirty one
hours wave their seconds across this fine mind,
I cling to their atmosphere, memory
licks poetic imagination's smiles
while fractured moments rush ruffled feathers.
So many words which flutter from these thoughts,
gather inside structured stanzas: free verse too,
soft adjectives climb nouns as verbs mingle
poet's pages in the search of spirits.
Fingers a blur; positive energy,
stuttered wisps of vision in coloured dreams,
wings of prose touch delicate artwork's face
and raucous laughter grips the heart's cool beats.
Dark times also, whispering solemn sighs
through sections of multiplexed emotions,
but it is all good, slithers of challenge
that merge into the whole essence of me.
Minutes flap from the tail of duration,
fourteen sweet little moderate measures,
quietly patient they wait to be sewn
to the fabric of this vast universe
where I roam friendship's possibility.