What is it about her poetry
That holds me in its spell
Is it her rhyme in metered time
That draws me in so well?
Or is it the words she chooses
To place upon the page
That builds the tower where stands her power
To exact from me this wage?
She always speaks of Mother
The one to whom I'm son
And it's so clear that do hear
What her words have begun.
She is an able gardener
Who makes the flowers grow
Throughout the gift through which I shift
To see her colours flow.
This is a very lovely poem. I don't know what you call that style, but it draws you in. I enjoyed this read very much.
kat
This is the most lovely thing to read....and dare I say...your words flow from your heart into the reader's soul. This has a beautiful rythym and flow. It is so nice to see the range you have as a poet....your garden of words brings beauty to my soul.
I like it! Simple and respectful.