Words
Words now are leaves waiting for the fall
I have seen them green
But loved them gold most of all
When trees were naked before the eyes
And words were tattered so with lies
And faith shook
The trees barren. I pined for fruit
Of lips of truth, or breast of purity
I hungered for love
And saw nudity that tells of shallowness
The only deep soil left is my heart
Words are being beaten into plough
But I prefer the two-edged sword
Since I am not a man of war.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
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