Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Sunday, November 02, 2008

Heart Spun Dream

No longer do the songs birds wake with the rise
of the morning sun,they’re in flight to find a warmer
place in the south where new days are spun.

Left behind a landscape of twisted trees of old
and the outline of a hillside,where once the wind
danced to shades of green and summer gold.

I watched once more the rise from far off in the east
to again watch the sunset fade to my spirit a disbelief.

A season stands not in battle, but to accept the moment
of change, as it braces for the cold storms ahead to
which winter is not the blame.

No tears shall fall, no sorrow shall we weave for in the
tapestry of life the thread of love is seen.

If the moment cast a curtain and darkness is all abound,
I shall not fear what I can’t see as your love is all around.

Gentle the moment, uplifting to the soul, memories of
pleasure to see me through the seasons of cold.

I couldn’t give my spirit, I couldn’t give my soul and my
heart was always yours my love, for you always had a

Weakened only by the distance and strengthened by
that still untold, as faith has kept us together on
the threads of life which to my heart are spooled.

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