Wool
The wool of our souls not
weary with days, it warms
us amidst our well, worn ways.
To cleanse and be cleansed
from all grief and be sheared
and cut with natural beauty.
Brushed by fate and time,
our fabric covered with folds
and tears of warmer days.
Tough and strong, not easily
torn, we keep our honor safe
from that which deflects our
ways. The soul of dawn safely
suns us and with the herd
we are forever content.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment