These are my musings and observations on my daily life, loves and the laughter that are all a part of my experience of living now in the shires of England.

Friday, 18 May 2012

No title - Poetry by Marjorie H Morgan

No title

I may never find the right answer
To your face, to your hands, to your name.
This discovery will turn into a mad dancer
A timid and gentle flame
Of a candle. It flickers, shivers, and cries
When the night fills up with wild sounds
Of silent glances and desperate tries –
When lightening resounds.

Trees nod even if they disagree.
Strong winds make them comply.
My little candle still remains free
Under the pressures of the endless ‘why?’

© Marjorie H Morgan 2012 

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