Poet to Poet

Cold mornings/
Coltrane silent/
Yearnings/

Poet, I long smell the earth in my skin
I want my eyes to tell the stories.
Glittery destination to anywhere.

I can reach, I can reach past this yellow symphony
In a remake trading post world paved with vendors.
Buckskin moccasins only brushing the ground
Pitch my tent, make a home for a week, move.
(ah. no phones, no appointments to keep, no problems)

Staying up nights watching a full moon laugh.
I'll be able to touch my feet & know
They're carrying me on my destined path
Free-spirited is what they call me
Splash in uncharted rivers, open my eyes underwater.

Forever with my smile, smelling like
Clouds on the back of the wind
Finding my fairy ring,
Some day my wings will catch my breeze and I'll sail
away again, even if only in another poem.


~SAS~