I sing my feather
in soul much lighter,
as down to pillow
softer dream
in scented wood
of quieter whispers,
strumming mystified mind
as skein to weave
in patterned papered
treasured face,
to touch in gentle breeze
of wander lost,
to song, in howl
echoed tender sent
as wllow blushing
branched release
of leaf in worshiped sun
where earth is golden
as dawn awakes
in trace of sight,
to guide a spirit free
and tree does yearn
soothe quenching rain,
to unearth drifted depth,
upon a forest floor
as gift received in worlds
of thundered beats,
upon once wilted green
in rhyme to meld
and mend a heart;
in humbled hands
he molds my clay
in circled creation's
replication,
brushed upon a canvas starry,
revealing hidden moons
in mystic strokes of flowing finger
found in blush to bare,
as spring's delight in closer star
Adding your comment:
Love, C
