I sit,
and hold
a space,
and wait,
until
some true
words rise,
and take
their place
here on
the page.
I curtsey
to them
spin them
round
and up and down
and see some new
thoughts turn.

Then comes
the time
to let them lie,
put them
aside. In later
space
to read
them cold
to weigh
and measure
and behold, to
let some go,
bring in
some new
and turn
them round
and up
and down
again.

And yet
again.

Repeat
to need
until they
come
together,
click to fit
each other,
and meaning
swoops,
in layers
bound,
to wrap
me round
and tell me
what I
never
knew
I knew.

For me, a poem is a key, unlocking a moment in time and revealing the creative depths that every moment holds. Poetry brings us to creative presence.

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