Her Apollo Poem by Matt Mooney
Her Apollo
His characters all came alive,
Stepping on the stage of time:
The playwright and the poet,
Words flowing like good wine.
On the mall of the main street
His statue stands forever,
Cap in hand and in his stride
For his walk down by the river.
Passing the Apollo of her dreams
His widow softly touched him then,
Praising him to unseen angels
In hosts now taking care of him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 5:18:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Matt..... Nice poem........who is the playwright.........if I was in Kerry would I be miles away? Keep well Martin............sitting at the window.....looking at Djouce in the sunshine.