to my reluctant Muse

I want to write a poem
If I were to run away from all this
Or maybe a play about a bakery
All this stuff, all these obligations
Where I once worked, once discovered
All my books and papers
Resources stored and stacked deeply
And never look back
In my essence, my spiritual DNA
Will there be space for me still
Inherited over the miles and years
In your heart, room for me
Where you are? Beauty, like truth,
is in the eye of the beholder, not the beheld.

5/3/2020

Author: Raymond Maxwell

https://raymmaxx.wordpress.com/ Librarian, archivist, retired foreign service officer and Navy veteran.

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