The Coming Wind

Organizing each word unpenned, 

I gave myself to rhyme

 

And offered up my humble skills

in thankfulness sublime

 

Each one a treasure unto me,

with silence on the run

 

Verses promised and drifting near

—of memories to come

 

(The New Room: March, 2021)

Copyright 2021 Kurt Philip Behm

 

Father To The Man

I grew up

having never become an adult,

the years to now betray

My body infirm,

my vision impaired,

my hair has turned to gray

 

I grew old

while living within myself,

false promises to none

Retuning to boyhood

each night in my dreams,

my age still zero-sum

 

(The New Room: March, 2021)

 

Copyright 2021 Kurt Philip Behm