Poets speak in the language of silence
Words descending like quiet flakes of snow
On the hearts of readers whose psyches sense
Nuances even the poet didn't know.
Just as the wafting fragrance of the rose,
Who remains unaware of her beautiful array,
So the trailing wake as poetic verse flows
Uplifts each reader in a personal way.
Like the evening mist arising from the pond
That communes and allures us quietly
So the words of the poet take us beyond
The world of sound into subtlety
Where we're freed from the bonds of space and time
Soaring with the bird on silent wing
Traversing the cosmos in rhythm and rhyme
As in quietude the poet makes our souls sing.
Claiming Hawaii as her true home, Molly Moore is currently residing in Seattle, Washington, pursuing a nursing degree. Perhaps her previous career as an international flight attendant is what launched Molly’s "flights of fancy" into poetry. A love of rhythm and rhyme sparks her creative side, especially while outdoors in nature.