On a new bed, prostrate you lie
Your cheeks to smile is lonely
Like dove eyes once beautiful
Now pale and fed with what seems white
With measureless affection,
My eyes remains not quite
As tears wrestle a way through fright
My heart in it’s secrets while
Ponder on why wrongs embrace right
Why the innocents suffer grieves hold
Slowly, your hand I hold, aye;
As the deep cries of my soul
Match to the father of new and old
In endless fold, a prayer I render
With a voice so quivering,
Spelling the turmoil
A passion full and hash
For a moment I know only,
Healing will kiss you fast
From my makers might and touch
Tired is my lips from asking,
‘’ How are…you?’’
Impatient is my desire
To scratch our bonds with fire;
memory of our good and bad hour
my soul clings on to power
As my palm calls to you flower
No comments:
Post a Comment