Poetry comes back to me
where long there had been none.
Lyrical, the imagery, once shared
and then was done.
Thoughts of such sincerity
in words that grace the page,
Race across the span of time
that bridge the gap of age.
Trusting in the ardor that
has cooled and healed with time,
I read again the tender lines
of kindred souls, in rhyme.
Oh spirit of another age,
reach out from time and space.
Fan the embers turned to ash
and torpid ruin replace.