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The P O E M I S T


A butterfly's wing

A classroom fleetingly remembered,
Inspiration found, almost as an insult,
In a place where it had no place.

The source fleetingly present,
Inspiration found, but lost,
Almost at the point of finding.

So little offered, so little expected,
But the habit of hope has its own momentum.
Days, weeks, then years.

A classroom fleetingly remembered,
Inspiration found, hope recovered.
Grateful, but sad at its remembered passing.

Two men, one past - one present,
The last remade,
The other a butterfly's wing.


Poem © The Postcardist: 2017

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Last updated: 23rd, March, 2017