04/10/13 - 3:13pm
By Norm Olson, Nikiski
My poems, my poems,
Golden vessels of thought,
Jewel-encrusted treasure trove of laughter and tears,
Fine casks of joy and love and fears.
For memories sake,
I carefully scribed them in the finest script.
Then they came:
Misunderstanding tried to diminish them
Scorn, rebuke, and ridicule tried to steal them
But they could not.
For they were indelibly etched and
as long as they lived, I lived.
Then came fire ... and I died.