RSS Feeds

Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


A dozen here, a dozen there
A hundred flying overhead.
The garden’s caravan of flowers.
The child’s breathing
the cold mist of cold.
The artistry of webs
and light woven in them.
The opals of unimaginable tears
trickling from the eyes
of unimaginable destiny,
and the unimaginable
that found its way
through the locks
I put upon my heart,
and opened it
to the gentleness
of an unimaginable force
called love.

Leave a Reply