POETRY
Poetry and all it means I can’t think of poetry Without thoughts of my Mother She loved poetry And often read poetry to us Before bedtime Or my Aunt Margarite She said when she was little Kids teased her with this chant “Hey Margarite I smell your feet Clear across the street” A silly group of words But hurtful to a little girl Or my father I don’t remember Him reading poetry But he was a poem Himself Free style Or my dear little sister Maggie Also a poem Where does a poem begin? Or end? I think it comes from the ones We love Who remain with us Through all times Always ready when called
