Born Anew

You, born the eleventh
in poetry’s month,
exhale pure air.
on virgin canvas.

Your purity shared
in the sweeping
loops of words bled
on page.

Beyond your birth you’ve
lived long in my mind’s eye,
inspiring beauty and ease.
Tranquility & warmth.

Adept at composing
muted stanzas,
of hopeless lament,
of joyous flourish,
bound in moleskine.

You, my saviour
born the eleventh;
With a pen and dream,
My amour de plume.
I write to you,
A father to his heir
inspired anew.
To achieve more
than he ever could


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