Reading

Reading

There is a house on Point Street

Where poets dwell

With the salty tang of the sea wafting through open windows

And when they open their doors

More poets gather

Congregate on the lawn

Feasting on words

Feasting on the communion

Which poets consecrate

When they make words into flesh

At the house on Point Street

Lovers touch affectionately

Complete strangers open up

No fear of artifice

Or attempts to impress

Nobody trying get ahead at someone else’s expense

Just the wisdom of the words

Spoken under an open sky

Punctuated by the calls of the circling gulls

Voices calling from down the block

While we gather for the truth

Of the spoken word

In the dimming light

Hearts remain aglow

Tonight

At the house on Point Street

David Trudel  © 2012

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