by: Dale Flanagan

If one did nothing
but apply himself to thoughts
of love
Could even then
all its
depth and breadth be plumbed

Could one know its every degree
its hot, hot beginnings
to its warm comfortable stability

Could one see its every shade
from the deepest red
that embarrasses the bloom
to its golden yellow richness
that rivals the sun

If one did apply all that he was
to thoughts of love
till the stars faded from view
the earth ceased to be
still only the barest of knowledge
would be have of love

But what a glorious thing
to be full of thoughts
of love

Meet Author Dale Flanagan

 
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Short Stories, Poems & Articles written by Prisoners