thomas skypembrook Poems

here it goes
life's plentiful ways
here it comes
life's fruits
...

these are the scrambles
heard it all
that works bloom
beautifully
...

what mind
it isn't there
what have i seen
not i know
...

doting love
plus for this darling
a fort of strength
pining for the world
...

swell now well
that tennyson speaks and tells
i meditate here and learn
so much to ascertain
...