Days and months and seconds and years melt into memory
Past reaches behind us under us filling in the white space
And all the while nothing stagnates nothing remains solid
The dance continues the march the pursuit the ride
Moving us along the days months seconds and years
Have a favorite poem or poet? Have an anthology dog-eared and beloved? Seems just about everyone can 
recite a few rhyming lines… I have a shelf in my library with a combination of poets, old and new. Certain moods draw me to take a book off the shelf and pursue some favorites… sometimes I just need the imagery to help me sort out what I’m feeling… whatever the reason, poetry has survived the ages because of its ability to transport us into illusions and metaphors far beyond the paradoxical, right into our very hearts.
Nine Cent Girl 