Poetry for Strangers: Warmth

warmth

the world is a mystery soon to be
cracked like a coconut for a daiquiri

blue sails on the water at icy dawn
sped to plunder the farmers with elan

five stones sat on the alabaster bench
arranged in a star by a redbreast finch

wires crisscrossed over the cobblestone road
telegrams of war-torn truth northward flowed

there is no warmth like when friends reunite
oodalally their laughter flashes light

I found a message in a bottle here
the sailor sang looking deep in his beer

scraps of poetry fluttered in the air
since the poem factory blew up there

the present moment is the almost past
our lives are stories told in forward cast

 

For more, visit Poetry for Strangers: Warmth

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