"WHO" ARE "WE BUT "WE" . . .

Who are "But" we . . . ?

Shadows of authors long passed by . . .

Words written then left to lie . . .

As a stranger to your imagination . . .

I wonder at your interpretation . . .

Do we really have the same design . . . ?

Of the tale wrote between the lines . . .

Each line thought upon and penned . . .

Chewed upon and penned again . . .

Each blade of grass is re-arranged . . .

Till then ~ its full glory is not attained . . .

Grasp my thoughts and with it run . . .

A thousand words ~ then I’m done . . .

Was every emotion imagined or even felt . . . ?

Within every word that was scrupulously dealt . . .

Did I hit the mark ~ did I get it right . . . ?

Should I spend more time on what I write . . . ?

Because I lack the knowledge ~ totally unskilled . . .

Or like a hasten sun with its last goodbyes . . .

Do you imagine me with a certain wry . . . ?

There will be as many poets as there is a setting sun . . .

Each and everyone one of us taking it in our turn . . .

To capture again the words of one's own unique design . . .

With all I have ever read ~ absorbed and then combined . . .

"For" whom am "I" ~ "But" me . . . 

"You" are "Thou" ~ "But" thee . . . 

Indiana Shaw . . .