Sunday, September 5, 2010

Sunset
I opened a weathered wooden door
Old words were found in disarray
Like a carpenter I'll build a poem someday, I thought years ago
Yes, I will. Maybe under a cloudy sky. Or when I stroll into a sunset

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

This embodies the nature of poetry a tired monk maxim that he will now follow.

Old Monk Ollie

Anonymous said...

Why.. you already make such beautiful ones already..

:)