Did you perhaps attend my Springtime class?
Participating flushed and imbued from past silences?
Or are you in the mountains now?
Masked in the rocky crags of camouflage?
Will i find you brisk as the Winter wind?
Or will you be still as the first leaf of Fall upon the sod?
And what of your eyes-are they still filled with Summer intent?
With perhaps the beginnings of your first poem?
Are you at last out from the shadows that once spoiled you?
Or are your ears now filled with the music of rhyme?
And your breaths-are they the reason for the seasons?
What of your purpose-is it now defined by rhyme so sublime?
Has it at last arrived in your heart?
Where all poems have been born throughout time.
Theodora (Theo) Onken
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poems-of-the-heart-their-origin/
