if wish merged with might
grew a tail and string was strung
from when i was thirteen
on a green grass field to now
in the air so high above
would swoosh
my kite
all the birds would be flying
below.

why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds

Celestial, indigo
sparkling stars of fire
molten rings of planets round
the silent sailing clouds
float across a sallow moon
hung in a sky of glittered jewels
diamonds, opals, pearls

Though the days ramble on
and the years move ahead
a mind that grows old
is the one thing that I dread

A mind should stay young
the negative severed
keeping a fresh attitude
that we can cherish forever

Growing old
and growing older
to me they're two different things
the one is as winter
while the other
still spring