The world’s sense

by T.P. Wilkinson / June 12th, 2022

Sense of silk

Never barefoot
have I tread
Never a book
I had not read
Could sift like sand
between my toes,
or amplify my woes.
In the morning air
the world’s scents
my nose can reach
every tearful eye
there hope and love
to teach.

T.P. Wilkinson, Dr. rer. pol. writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..

This article was posted on Sunday, June 12th, 2022 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.