Pamela Constantine
A Way Of Seeing
I travel every day
Down steps of years
To the pool of quietude.
In my memory,
Across a different pond,
A mother duck is swimming
With her brood.
In reflection's park
I watch in waves
The people of my dreams.
Outside, beyond
The reaches of my heart,
An unseen tide
Of living people streams.
Yet I am blessed.
For some, the world looks ugly.
I am free:
I gaze on remembered scenes,
Remembered faces,
And beauty is
The only world I see.
Page(s) 46
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