by Dan Sturn
While "pruning" old Poetry, this came to me.
Walking through the written past,
I think upon the words I've passed.
Spaces part the hallowed words,
placed to keep nuance unblurred.
Though all alone they seem absurd,
combined the words can leave you stirred,
can draw between your mind and heart
a line that leaves you feeling smart.
And I would walk among the words,
counting fifths and sometimes thirds,
making sure the rhyming beats,
conform to form to please elites.
Along the way changed ofs to ors,
or switched a word to open doors.
For you there holding future’s mast,
I pray this Poem is unsurpassed.