This is a collection of the poetry of Troy Camplin. As each poem is always a work in progress, comments and criticisms will be taken into consideration, and changes, perhaps, made.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Open
My heart opens --
a book, a rose, the beak of a baby bird
in an old, bent apple tree --
until I know, now, its warmth is not wasted
on your door, cracked open.
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I appreciate all constructive comments.