statues silently standing on hallowed ground
telling their stories day and night
granite and marble guardians without sight
A garden full of ghosts standing vigil
alongside testaments of their lives
invisible keepers of their own archives
There’s nothing living in this garden
no souls lingering nearby
just grave stones under the sky
Northern lights and purple nights
aurora borealis colors in the night sky
a palette for the gods to paint
and beautify
and
forests and plains forever green
the most beautiful day ever seen
flowing fields of verdant grass
grassy knolls en masse
under the sun’s brilliant sheen
lies a blanket of emerald green
***
who are poems for?
the wealthy or the poor?
or is it possible
there’s more?
emphatically, yes!
they’re for everyone
to access
poems are gifts to share
with the rest of us
anywhere
who enjoy a poetic flair
watching words take wing
rhyming with everything
flights of imagination
with every narration
comes from poetry
like leaves from a tree
we gather them up
into our memory
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