I confess
I undress
Women in my mind.
Some are true lovers
While others
I find
Are the temporary kind.
And my love and lust
Are dust.
Poets die
And leave behind
A part
Of their heart
And mind.
And readers discuss
The loves and lusts
We leave behind,
Be they real
Or the imagined kind.
I was delighted and humbled that my poem, “The Poet” https://kmorrispoet.com/2019/11/29/the-poet-2/, inspired Lorraine to compose her fine poem, “Ashes Now to Ashes” https://blindwilderness.wordpress.com/2019/11/29/ashes-now-to-ashes/.
Poetry dies
In eyes
Grown dim
With sin.
Thomas rages
At the dying light.
What use are pages
At the final, “goodnight!
K Morris - Poet 