*
I pick up words
as small daisies
on a spring field
careful to hold them
in small bunches
never as beautiful
as when first spotted
a memory of wonder
blushing as they close
around their meaning
covering the heart
shy of a truth near
enough for our dull spirit
to remember a note
or two
.
.
.
.
This poem is from the collection California Notebooks 01. To get your own copy click here
.
.
annamosca 
or one.
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Love this shot…
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Thank you for your positive comment! I appreciate your sensitivity.
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Thanks anna…
No one ever told me that before.
The feelings mutual…
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