I forget the joy of writing
then reading what I’ve written,
curling like a kitten play-fighting
with the same gentle hands
that stroke poems from the sand
of the beaches that I walk on
when I haven’t forgotten
that I love to be alone sometimes
with my simple childish rhymes.
A Poem on a Note on the Fridge
Posted: November 6, 1993 in PoetryTags: Beach, Cat, Child, Joy, Love, Sand
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