Year
Across thIs scenic route,
I spy fools gold signpost,
pointing in the wrong direction,
to vibrant green “plot,”
that lost its mint green hue,
on close inspection as it happens,
Visionary luscious slope and peak,
giddy silver stream,
harbourmaster of the trompe l’oeil,
for distant minds who dwell,
in make belief of one kind or another,
I think on this occasion, familiar streets whose tint,
I am aware of mightn’t disappoint,
or disillusion to the same degree.
as that paradise one may promise,
to oneself or that reference,
from another individual trusted,
with the very best of intentions,
when shrewd self counsel whispers,
value what one has on the spot
Poetry Reading