Please enjoy this poem from poet Thomas E. Kemp

My old whispers are ground into dust,
The secrets I held onto pass away as I watch,
New candlesticks with berry scents trail in smoke,
Promising long sentences,
of words,
instead the draped ones I used before.
You come at me with novel ideas and wishes,
Begging like the light penetrating what darkness,
I held onto.
You, the sparkling, flicking, hope
Now light my early morning each day.
Yet, my body and mind still like the burning bush of awe,
Warm my hope for every new encounter
and prove time does march onward.
Daylight, not a daydream,
and your more real than what my life ever was.

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