This poem will not be written today.
It just will not come to life.
It lingers just beyond my comprehension.
teasing me, pulling at my emotions.
I can feel it.
Waiting to be revealed in words,
by me,
someday,
just not today.
I am not a poet...
ReplyDeleteI love this Mary. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThanks Joanne, but I still contend that I am not a poet. :)
Delete