Each stroke here appears to me as a letter… slowly becoming words, sentences and finally a poem.
A beautiful poem telling stories of the most beautiful love — one between a mother and her child.
Please forgive me if my words today have become loquacious than they ought to be.
Painters write with their brushes, while we humble poets with our pens.
Maurice Sapiro 
Each stroke here appears to me as a letter… slowly becoming words, sentences and finally a poem.
A beautiful poem telling stories of the most beautiful love — one between a mother and her child.
Please forgive me if my words today have become loquacious than they ought to be.
Painters write with their brushes, while we humble poets with our pens.
Wishing you days filed with light and life.
SF
LikeLike
Loquacious poets and their pens create masterpiees. You have proven that today.
Thanks for filling my days with light and life.
Maurice
LikeLike