Image courtesy monmouthcountyparks.com
Written by Sean Jenny
I found this while walking through the park.
It was nothing to speak of, not to say there
were no words,
Only, just as we sat on the water’s edge
I let them float on by.
Long ago, poetry was my will…
I remember my first quatrain;
what a taciturn thing. My shadows were
more than its muse.
They were my authors, my illustrators,
and I was their abrasive editor.
If at THAT time I sat by a watery edge
with the muted sky in reflection on your
I would curl upon the bench
and bundle you in malformed,
camouflaged phrases as a vagabond of
But NOW, even through my Carl Jung
I bring substantial to the spiritual,
give goal to the emotion,
and speak words to love once speechless.
I’ll wait by the water till summer rolls
See you then…
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Image courtesy ralphmag.org