General Poetry posted December 7, 2017


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tercet, cinquain, tercent

Paper

by dovemarie

Paper is born of the tree,
Smooth, pure, fresh, snow-white,
A writer's key

From the depths of my mind
To the blank page,
Words spring forth, like a baby from the womb
Releasing all my love, hate, reflection and rage
With the strength and wisdom of a sage

Paper is born of the tree,
A tall wonder of beauty
For the poet's eye to see




Thanks to SCHATZLING for artwork.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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