Sunday, August 9, 2015

a little book of prose-poetry ... 19



I hear a gentle humming
As we skip along the walk;
My little rope is telling me
It’s she who wants to talk.
“Pray tell, dear friend,”
I interject, “I know
Just what you’re thinking.
You know the happiness
In my heart, the joy
That lights my soul.
Let me give thanks 
For this heavenly day:
We’ll stop, as I pray.”
— Garry D. Kilbourn

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