The Sower

Yes, her art threw out lines
You wanted to follow
Did your best, tracing with your eyes
Your fingers
Your heart
Her poems told of tales
You knew
And never tired of
And others you never knew
Your eyes widening in wonder
She made you blush
More often with pride
Than any broken taboo
She made you flush
With gratitude
We know her for her best work
As the sower of seeds
As one who could pick a thread
From your tattered garment
And draw it out until you sang
We will be singing her tunes
For all our days

For Tee Corrine

c 3/4/06 P. C. DuVall

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 28th, 2006 at 9:51 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.