A poem for a cold and frosty (Friday) morning.
My fingers type
the words;
no hype,
just honest
to goodness
feelings.
Unlike,
in my fingers,
where I have none.
.
My brain
also
struggles
to keep the warmth
of creative thought alive;
but, there is a glimmer
from an unquenchable ember
that I have
deep in the heart of my being.
Graeme Sandford 