Real Poems
for Bruno
People are your poems.
They sharpen their senses on you,
give you back themselves wild with new life.
They are poems that catch things
hiding in the corner
or the last green leaf on an Autumn tree
overlooked before you,
poems of sounds trembling just beneath the chatter,
poems that taste the way the world tastes,
poems that reach farther to feel.
People are your poems.
They zap and hum,
electric with your charge.
Original works,
surprises made of beauty and sweat.
People speak back to you like lines
of light shined in dark places,
like pages of memory lifted in the breeze of daydream.
They speak the rhythm of keeping it going,
like they are important and will last forever.
Kristin Henry
for Bruno
People are your poems.
They sharpen their senses on you,
give you back themselves wild with new life.
They are poems that catch things
hiding in the corner
or the last green leaf on an Autumn tree
overlooked before you,
poems of sounds trembling just beneath the chatter,
poems that taste the way the world tastes,
poems that reach farther to feel.
People are your poems.
They zap and hum,
electric with your charge.
Original works,
surprises made of beauty and sweat.
People speak back to you like lines
of light shined in dark places,
like pages of memory lifted in the breeze of daydream.
They speak the rhythm of keeping it going,
like they are important and will last forever.
Kristin Henry