Poems from blueskies72
Everyday
I try
to smell those roses
large and small
apparent and hidden
against those who whine to march onwards
towards Babel's...
You see, our own thoughts are ours alone.
A quiet place only talked about, but never seen.
No matter how much we communicate ideas...
There seems to be no pattern for the way life goes on.
There is no perfect forever fit
or no ever lasting love.
The things we see
and the...