Thursday, February 12, 2009

Poet at Fifty:

Let me write myself

in a corner

and, dare to call it my own:

Its textures were dimpled at birth;

and, the eyes have always had it.

Let whatever wisdom carried


more stately clothes.


Let the Light that shines on all

be ever in my grasp.


I praise this day

and my lonely soul

and whatever

its captured;

its worth.

w.H.b ~Copyright, o2/12/o9~


-eve- said...

Yes, it's a good day! Don't let it all be a waste - there's so much good you can do in life, so much more you can make of it. Happy birthday again! :-)

Suddenly I notice... 'fifty'? ;-) (If that's your age, I can hardly believe it - I remember one pic on your blog; you definitely don't look fifty, heheh!)

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Carrie Amie said...

Nicely put.