Thursday, February 16, 2012

Some Shape of Beauty

Very soon will there be voices calling us all to come home.
We will loiter in tall summer grass,
fireflies in hand, feet bare and streaked with mud,
waiting for the sound of our true names.
We will run away from long shadows leaping behind us
toward some shape of beauty.
We will find ourselves home again.
Tired.
Happy.

(This is my love poem to John Keats, that darling boy...)

4 comments:

  1. I love the reflection of the inner child and the beauty that you captured!
    Well Done

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  2. Very nice!

    Imagery and emotion...again, very nice.

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  3. happy to have loitered in the grass; happy to be home. Knowing that both are love.

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