Poetry

Some poetry I’ve written in the past couple months. ¶ Morning ¶ Soft and warm The golden paths And shadows On the carpet. ¶ Quiet footsteps, It’s morning And the baby’s Still asleep. ¶ Loss ¶ Milky, fuzzy, sweet and soft The odor still remains entombed 'Til mother lifting up the cloth Escapes the scent...