Illustrated Poetry

I found myself at the beginning,
a zenith if you will,
and knew that the party had just started.
A prevernal Psalm,
a hymn to the rose and the cross
had carried me to faraway dreams
and afternoon places.
Shal I sing you a sonnet?
Poetry in motion
born on midsummers wings,
fly, my pretties, fly.
And we will love
and we will hate
as we look beyond the fog
of symbolic relationships
that cast shadows over time
but carry quiet joy.
For there is a time to plant
and a time to sow
and all the colors of the rainbow
are ours
if only we see.

© 2015 Stephen Boothe


About txyogi

Sixty plus year old Network engineer, father, grandfather, webmaster, graphic designer, guitar/bass player, yogi from Texas. View all posts by txyogi

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