The Birth Of Poems

[DarleneG]

On paper sheets, crisp and white,
we labor over the words we write.
Newborns, in lines they lay,
their mouths wide open,
with more to say.
They cry at us and won't shut up,
until they are weaned from bottle to cup.
And as they grow, their voices are heard.
Clearly now, you'll hear every word.









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[audiofool]

Very witty, Darlene. A good poem.

[DarleneG]

Thanks for reading and giving feedback. When you and others do that, I really appreciate it because it lets me know how I'm doing. Hugs, Darlene