As I read through this poem now, without knowing who the poet was, I wondered how one can write so beautifully. And then, I saw who had written this poem, and I went, naturally, it has to be her...
So, so beautiful!
Joan McNerney GloMag January 2021
THE POET
It is the white hour
between deep night, soft dawn.
I have known no sleep but
my eyes blazed back at the
stars this night.
Walking by the river
soft murmuring while
long poems
intricate exquisite
shaped themselves
glided across my mind.
Faint indistinct…like
a love I have known.
Quiet passion gentle
smooth. Cotton
clouds in a blue sky.
Haze of hours half-forgotten
melon moons crackerjacks.
This is a kind of sleep
in a way, enchanted.
Half in out of this world.
The sun rose…
another golden flower.
