The Poet Within Me

The real poet "I have miles to go…" David Frost. Thinking of his beautiful poems as I walked the corridors of the parking place at the bottom of the building. No, I'm not David Frost my life is too mundane to fly on poetic wings. Around and around five times makes one hour all I get is smells of parked cars. Still, as I walk, I think of poetry others have written Not my own they are too practical They sound like carpentry, and nails hammered into a plank building a cabin on a mountainside. That is the way it goes, and some are blessed the rest of us are poetic cobblers.