There might be left one more in me.
One more rhyme.
One more tale.
One more ship adrift alone
In need of just the perfect pen
To fill the sail to land and then….
.
There might be one more ready gift.
Powerful enough to lift
That dark and musty veil that fell.
And dropped the words into a well.
.
Perhaps.
.
Illumination in the dark.
A tiny flame,
A tiny spark.
Kindling for a time as this,
Inspiration’s kiss.
.
So, kiss me then
And quickly too!
For surely there’s much left to do.
Drink of the nectar a poet sips
Then kiss me on the lips.

12/17/2002

Posted on 12/18/2002
Copyright © 2026 Mary Ellen Smith