From the Ground Up- lesson four

Elusive Imaginings
...like feathers on the wind...

A fragile figment flutters softly down,
landing with grace but not a single sound.
Feather soft, it sits on the barren page
awaiting my pen, which will craft its stage.

Pen, hand as one begin to form and shape;
fashioning the scene designing the drape.
Fair figment hovers on the gentle breeze,
created by pen strokes flowing with ease.

Then a darkened cloud suddenly takes form;
strong blowing wind it's threatening to storm.
I grasp at the figment but it takes flight
before I can grasp, it is gone from sight.

I wait in the darkness holding my pen;
hoping the notion will arrive again.
But it is gone – this I must consent.
My figment has flown, folded up its tent.

Elusive imaginings float on the wind.
When one flutters by, I'll begin again.



Quatrain poem (unedited)

I watch as you mature
bright and demure
watching you flourish
time that I cherish.

Never one to dwell
On that final farewell to
the love oh so decaying
that needed slaying

now you sit full of fire
not yet ready to retire
head way up high
nothing left to deny

just like an epiphany
oh my beautiful tiffany
your eyes are glistening
angels are truly listening


Quatrain poem (edited)

I watch as you mature;
bold and bright and demure.
Watching as you flourish,
is time that I cherish.

Never one to dwell on
that final farewell to
the love; so decaying,
ever needed slaying.

Now you sit full of fire,
not ready to retire.
Head tall and way up high;
nothing left to deny.

Like an epiphany!
My beautiful Tiffany;
your eyes are glistening.
Angels are listening!