Are Children Poets

Like a star how it pulses. Plug it into her dream. And what is it like. Misty snow filled flows over her veil. Flowers and the woods. Tender thoughts there beneath. So the light of the silvery moon. But so firm in the world. I sailed up to the sun. And my joy as she closed my eyes. Hotter today fire and ice. Youth leaves by the kiss. Kiss by kiss kissed on the lips by lips. Come or stay, poets of the many. Days long are going while by night they apppeare. Eye ball to eye ball deep in kisses I answered the poet. I believe and believing beauty it quickens my feet. Eyelids are pealed back because. Pleasure are the children of poets.