On The Pier

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    On The Pier

     October days are here again
    The harvest moon is out
    Behind a cloud it soars away
    Not to look down on us, we shout

    Standing on the pier
    We look into the lake
    It's deep blue pigment in the night
    Could set off an earthquake

    As we stand here softly
    The music begins to play
    You lift me into a nimble spin
    The violins far away

    I coud stay here forever
    On the pier over the lake
    With you I could always be
    You, I could never forsake

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    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    Care’s Poems (29)

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