For Every Heave
The river floats, carrying me
away from nights, out to the sky,
where leaves are tossed, as whispers grow…
retracing hours, when memoirs beckon.
And sparrows fling above me now
my breathing grace enshrined in stone…
among the lanes and endless roads
this calling mild, so warmly dear.
I touch the flame of quiet stars ,
and long for all that's safe and warm
from what I know is mine to keep;
with four seasons bringing me home
to drift, drift on with every heave…
O knowing not when time will end
upon my faith my thoughts relieved…
the drink of music, a love complete
Graceful the crest of my new land,
unto its bed , new morns will speak
about all my wild and gentle dreams…
till the moon inscribes my name, while
all but a soul is laid to rest.
Any Poem written in August
NOT for a contest
Sponsor:Broken Wings
8/30/2015
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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