Letters
Tiny figures
Imprinted in our minds
Come together in joyous words
Magic
Letters
Tiny figures
Imprinted in our minds
Come together in joyous words
Magic
Yesterday evening I sat at my desk
to write some thoughts on ‘Serendipity’
’twas a challenge a dear friend had bequest

so it had to be worthy and witty.
My Sharpie lingered; the page stared blankly
as my eyes wandered across the blue room.
They gazed upon my Whovian family
and so my first sonnet began to bloom.
But when a writer begins their writing;
hidden metaphors begin to appear;
words start to link up, and start creating
a sonnet, that wasn’t meant to be here.
Heed this poets call; follow what you see
Alas, it could be… Serendipity!
One grey day on the Metro line
I looked upon an old past time.
Sitting in the middle of yesterday
a carousel that cannot play.
Bracing itself through the pouring rain
the tired horses show their pain.
Eroded down to their very core
their porcelain skins are no more.
Coarse are their once pristine petals
destined for a sea of metal.
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