When I was a child, it was my
mom I loved the best,
When I was a teenager,
I began questioning,
was I worthy to befriend?
As a young single mother,
I wondered if I was worthy of
another love? Now in the
winter of my years,
snug under my covers warm
and tight, my inner poet
whispers in my ears at night,
to not be afraid to bare my bosom
to the moon and upgather my
pollen like a sleeping flower,
when my days are no longer
that of harmony, beauty
and/or dramatic expression,
Triton will blow his horn and
I will join my mom in deep repose
both of us eternally loved.
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"snug under my covers warm
and tight, my inner poet
whispers in my ears at night,"
Most of my inspiration comes at that twilight sleep time and I find myself grabbing for the light switch and the tablet and pen on my night stand. If I don't, with the morning the poem that wanted to be written usually will be gone.
I've added you to my poets to track and look forward to reading more.
Peace and Love,
Marcia
And that remembering her brings out a smile.
Georg
A beautiful writing
to the moon and upgather my
pollen like a sleeping flower,
when my days are no longer
that of harmony, beauty..".
So much beauty in honesty. Rockie is right!
Sincerely,
Regino
Rockie Coppolella