A word
or maybe just random letters
these are the gifts unintended
but there is a filing instrument
again a gift unintended
yes hurt
can chip away
smooth over sharp edge
cut clean
and hand over to heart
these raw materials
with which
by and by
splendid pavilions I make
for who knows whom
if so desired to stay awhile
There is a delicate truth and its always beyond the poem .That is the uniqueness which I see always in your poems. For me , the beauty of your poem is that.
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ReplyDeleteNeat the work of masonry
ReplyDeleteAnd splendid pavilion you've made