“Occasionally I am reminded that perhaps I should write a poem.” This statement prefaced a poem written by my daughter in an email she sent the other day. She has been writing poems since she was quite young. I want to share it with you.
Words with others like it
to clear the mind and feed the rest.
Words hidden under a cloak of deception
yearning to be misread.
Words as simple as a flower’s petals
which bend over the anxiety of being so beautiful.
Words which help find meaning in the wells of uncertainty
as profound as an older man
delicately unfolding his morning paper.
A smile without the effort that stains it.
A poem like so many before it.