Some Poets Get It Right

Peppered rays of light

Slip between giant oak leaves of green

Morgan, Masefield, Keats

They got it right,

Knew how to put it on paper

Knew how to take you there

And tell you how you were going to feel

Nothing beats these quiet, quaint spots

Breezes, back here, blow with more scent

Clouds glide with more speed and luster

Between sips of wine

And slight and easy naps,

Comes all the things I need

There truly is no real reason to die,

If your only hope is getting to heaven

Because even if you make it there,

But failed to make it to the small wonders like this,

Then you died without knowing

Heaven was here

All along

© Dicky J Loweman 2015



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