Poetry Endures

*A repost for the end of National Poetry Month*

Only crumbs in the cookie jar.
And the ice cream carton rests
Limp and exhausted in the trash.

April is nearly finished,
But poetry endures forever.

My children have grown up and moved out,
their shouts and play are mere echos
until grandchildren come bounding in.

But poetry lines my shelves,
plays hide-n-seek
in the corners of my emotions,
swirls me about in rhythmic strands,
delights me in solitude.

Sweet on my tongue,
bitterly questioning,
sacred irreverence.

Yes, April is fading.
Poetry endures forever.

9 thoughts on “Poetry Endures

    1. You are always welcome to my thoughts, sweet companion and sister-traveler…blessings and much, much love to you *children singing**garden blooms at sunrise*

  1. This was a lovely read. I agree with you, that poetry endures. Well it endures so long as there are humans to enjoy reading it and, at times cudgelling their brains as to its meaning. Best wishes – Kevin

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