Poetry Fans
We’re of a certain age,
when time grows hot, then cold.
Where discretion tints experience
and wisdom could unfold.
We seek the worded breeze,
accounts that move the air.
From windy musings we conjure dreams
and share them if we dare.
We seek the weft and warp,
designs, the patterns clashing.
We plumb the mysteries of life and
fantasize while flashing
Tags: poem
