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Found

March 5, 2020

Found: a poem, down a dusty old path

that leaves have scraped with many final breaths.

When asked why it lingered so, it laughed

and held onto my arm, and hopped with wreaths

of dry, pressed daisies (all the color drained)

upon its golden head. It did not seem

to care that it was lost, that I had dreams

of unearthing it on this long-worn lane.

Alas! It speaks to me, these rambling rags;

the restful whisper fills up the silent,

lonely contours of my Self, in the crags

and vales, rivers all dry and seeming spent.

“Walk,” it says, “and soon you’ll find your way.

The lost are truly blessed when they stray.”

5 Comments

  1. Shannon Voeller

    Wow this is gorgeous.

    Reply
  2. Libby

    This is really powerful, Graham, in a quiet sort of way. I really enjoyed this – thank you for sharing.

    Reply
  3. Susan

    Beautiful poem! 💗

    Reply
  4. Evelyn

    I agree with everyone else… this is a beautiful poem is such a lovely quiet way. 🙂

    Reply
  5. Sarah

    Yes. This is a poem I want to sit with and think on. Thank you for sharing this!

    Reply

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