Poetry
I’m a well-spring of ideas bestowing wealth…
a mirror revealing you to yourself…
I’m a bridge to the future—
a bridge to the past—
a breeze that speaks to the sails at your mast…
I’m a haunting whisper in a mist at sea…
a mother’s cry—a political prisoner’s plea…
I’m your Spirit in a different disguise
seeing Life through Poetry’s passionate eyes.
January, 2002
Flowerpoet 