January 27, 2023
Some call it traditional others old fashioned,
I love my words metered and flowing with rhyme.
Now poetry’s changed, even rhythm is shunned.
That seed that was planted way back in my prime
Was encased in a pod that took fire to reveal.
Once it broke open the seedling took root,
Broke through to the sunlight and learned how to feel.
When I look in the mirror and see that old coot,
I stare and I ask him, “What took you so long?
Why keep words inside you that could have been said?
Throughout your whole life did you get it all wrong?
Or was it worthwhile that you waited instead?”
Perhaps all along words were forming inside.
They took decades of life to take shape and to grow.
The words were all there they just learned how to hide.
Through the rhyme and the rhythm, they learned how to flow.
I’m still finding words that were hidden somewhere.
I help them find courage and learn how to share.