The Poet’s Fifth Lesson

Scattered.
Ripped asunder.
Blown in the wind.
My words evaporate,
are lost, reformed,
born again with each reading.

About this poem. 
I’ve written several of these poet’s lessons poems over the past year. This one was spawned by the picture, which was taken in Washington, DC a few weeks ago.

If you are interested in the others I’ve written, type in “the poet’s” in the search bar at the top of the blog, and they should appear.

Tom