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THERE BE MAGIC AT THY FINGERTIPS BE CAREFUL, DOES THOU NOT KNOW THE POET IS ALSO SUCEPTIBLE TO THOSE WELL-PLACED WORDS THE SEMANTIC LOVER OF THE HEART AND ROMANTIC WEAKLING THAT HE IS? IT IS NOT SO OFTEN THAT POET FINDS SUCH DEFINING WORDS OF POETRY FROM THEE SCRIBBLED UPON HIS HEART'S DOOR WITH SUCH GRATITUDE OF FEELING.... AND POIGNANT ACCURACY. WHAT CAN HE SAY........ BUT THAT IT HUMBLY DEFINES HIM SO WELL, AND SWINGS THE DOOR OPEN WIDE THAT HE HIMSELF SURPRISINGLY TUMBLES INTO THE SAME SWEET FRAGRANCE LIKE SOME IGNORANT PLOW BOY BEREFT OF VIRTUES FROM THE HEART....? WHAT IS IT THAT THE POET SEES AND FEELS AND HEARS AND TASTES AND SMELLS LIKE UNTO THE ELIXIR OF FRESH RAIN ANOINTING A THIRSTY, DREAMY FOREHEAD.... IS IT BUT THE RETURN OF LOVE UPON A WING FROM THE WORDS THE POET TRIED TO SING LIKE UNTO AN INNOCENT CHILD'S FIRST DISCOVERY OF AMAZEMENT, AND THAT HAS MEANT EVERYTHING THAT SENT THE READER INTO THE HEART TUMBLING....? THEPOETSKISS COPYRIGHT 2003 Vote for this poem
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