The Wonder

Oh to what is sleeping here,

Heart of past in bones so clear,

unknown shared in words on page

paper shift, the ribbon gauged.

It lingers now in breeze unseen

A craftsman’s work that once had been.

Yet, all I see in marveled gaze

is history full I cannot raise

but only pray and hope for me

that something true will come to be.

That something true will stand the test

be marveled too, someday at best.

But thoughts are not an anchored sort

they drift and flow, set sail at port.

And so to stare and wonder now

Inspired, I’ll remain…somehow.

Paula Antonello, Poetry. Copyright: Wednesday, July 8, 2020.

Image: The Wonder by P. Antonello.