there was no decades time to write poems
no mentor no patron to show a way prepare a path…
unguided I gifted you six thousand plus poems
but these were only a few bread crumbs
to what I could have time written back in…
in the eighties I wrote the prophetic lines
read marvel at the dross
while too few mourn a greater loss…
behold storm wind listens
I would have Sibyl gifted you loaves
of fresh baked wisdom but all you would…
receive was a few stale bread crumbs
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
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