Being Poem by Patti Masterman

Being



I am the empty grave,
The golden rows that wave,
Reflections in your eye,
The starry ports of night.

I am the open book,
What lovers wear; that look,
The things that babies say,
The passage of the day.

The drunk moon in the sky
Is hung upon a sigh,
And all the dreams we dream
Are hardly what they seem.

Sunday, August 28, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: dreams,drunk,eye,moon,reflection,sigh,sky
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
May 2 2015
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