Today's poem is by Myrna Stone
Maybe
Who first spoke you, word
of ambiguity and whimsy?You are loathe to commit,
the very soul of suppositionwhile escaping our tongues.
From you mayhap, mayhem,the buzz of be and the tonic
of illusion that untethers usfrom our own lurid histories
of befuddlement and failure.And if we are your infatuates,
gullible and fractious, findingfarce and foolery irresistable,
we are likewise your abettorsplucking petals from daisies,
your idlers, dreamers, loverswho never fail to hear in you,
huckster, your whiff of hope.
Copyright © 2005 Myrna Stone All rights reserved
from River Styx
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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