A salute to Poetry Month last and a hello to May
by Mathew Paust
Something
Fleeting moments of tension free,
Sensory glimpses of how it could be,
A sweet easy rhythm in synchrony
Is how it seems for you, too, to me.
There's nothing really but memory,
Yet promise of something's
The world I see.
Fleeting moments of tension free,
Sensory glimpses of how it could be,
A sweet easy rhythm in synchrony
Is how it seems for you, too, to me.
There's nothing really but memory,
Yet promise of something's
The world I see.
