language stolen

 LANGUAGE STOLEN FROM LEWIS GRANDISON ALEXANDER

 

Life goes by moving.

My soul is the wind

listening to the rain,

knowing not at all

how the nightingale sings.

 

I shall purchase my mood.

Did you say a sound?

Moon of today

my ears burn for speech;

they look at the white moon.

 

Is thought that is not thought

the poetry of life?

I swim down the stream

treading wearily

within the shadow.

 

My heart like a shell

is bathing in life's fountain.

I will wrap the song.

No words speak; otherwise

why should I wander?

 

Jerry W. Ward, Jr.            April 25, 2021

LANGUAGE STOLEN FROM LEWIS GRANDISON ALEXANDER

 

Life goes by moving.

My soul is the wind

listening to the rain,

knowing not at all

how the nightingale sings.

 

I shall purchase my mood.

Did you say a sound?

Moon of today

my ears burn for speech;

they look at the white moon.

 

Is thought that is not thought

the poetry of life?

I swim down the stream

treading wearily

within the shadow.

 

My heart like a shell

is bathing in life's fountain.

I will wrap the song.

No words speak; otherwise

why should I wander?

 

Jerry W. Ward, Jr.            April 25, 2021

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