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