Army Mom’s Safe Haven

Christina: Poetry
Painting "Poetry" by Alphonse Mucha


I imagine Poetry's a blue-dressed sprite
who visits me in darkest night
and wakes me up with dancing words
like discordant-sounding, squawking birds

"Write, Chris, write", she trills to me
[I know I must, or cease to be...]
I scramble quickly from my bed
to copy down the words she's said

or else, in morning's soft-knit light
I'll forget the rhyme's own sweet delight
"Here are the words", she sings to me
"take them, now, so I'll be free

to take myself to other minds
and help them with their dreaming rhymes."
Oh, Poetry, I love you so...
How did you ever, ever know

that words exist and sing in me?
I've molded them into poems, you see;
from a little girl, to a woman grown...
Your evening gifts have become my own.

©Copyright July 2004 by Christina