I want to write

I want to write poems all day.
Have them drip from my thoughts,
slip thru my fingers
onto the forest floor,
mix with my tears
and turn into clay.

I would scoop up the earth
form and shape the words
into worlds fantastical,
of angel-winged spheres
floating on the wisps of laughter,
joyously free.

I might dot them with glowing stars
shooting across a canyon sky
or infuse them with treasures untold
of memories too dear
to be spoken aloud.

Vessels of encapsulated wonder,
lessons highlighted in gold
and trudged in mud,
these earthenware poems
I would give to you
to hold the flowers
of your being.

Nothing less do you deserve,
children of the Universe sublime.

mj 11.18.17 poem