Author: Dennis Cook
When logic becomes the fool,
and all words turn to drool,
I will lie down with my animal close,
my breath rushing through my nose,
and feel the spaces inbetween
grow closer and warmer as
.....I melt into the scene.
But, to relax for just this moment
is all I can ask...somehow.....
Because, eventually to my
own nature I must bow,
and sigh....for now
....for now
....for now.......
Back to poetry and friends
