...a child’s first step
And it is a walk on the moon
My verse is a bitter-sweet remedy
That springs from a troubled heart
My verse is a pilgrim in a strange land
And it is an open door
My verse is all that I have done
And all I have failed to do
My verse is a silver birch
And it is a red bud tree
That changes from tender purple
To deep and fulfilling scarlet
My verse is a sleepless night
A train whistle calling me back
My verse is a rising sail
Awaiting the breath of dawn
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur
Prompted by Wordgathering
It's addictive, isn't it? I could have gone on for quite a while with mine! I particularly like the opening and closing pair of lines and the sensory imagery that works through your verses.
ReplyDeleteThank you for visiting me, Margo. Yes, it IS addictive :-) I thought I'd have trouble finding metaphors, instead I had to resist the temptation of writing a really long poem.
DeleteI can so relate to "My verse is a sleepless night". I keep a small notebook by my bedside as I often wake up in the middle of the night with my muse rattling off stuff that I should remember! A wonderful poem that you've written here. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Misky.
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