Sandra Feldman

Like in a trance,
The Words come.
Surrounding Glory,
Of images, of feelings,
That emerge like,
Scintillating lights
In spurts, that hurt,
Like giving birth,
And then, your poetic child
Is born, it's there,
He's gloriously 'fair'
And he becomes yours,
Forever, to share,
In every breath you take,
And you slowly,
Glide away together,
Like, pure white Swans,
In Love, floating
Upon Life's Crystal Lake.