Hands Seeking Soft Petals
To-night when the sheep angels
weave their heals,
and all the world ends with sleep;
to shadows of the day,
symptoms of some truth lay ----
Buried to bid us due to a softer peace,
a greater good soon to mold,
with kinder eyes upon the world;
War had slipped to its death
so gallant cliffs to trip ----
for the unfettered feet of liberty,
and the thrush bird in its song
Where flowers blush their good-news-hues
along winding woods with the Piper
and his muse, a great tomb lay
amid sylvan shade;
And all the children's hands seeking soft petals,
begin to lay rainbow flowers for the fallen,
watering them with their holy tears;
and painted their smiles in the white rills ----
and upon the scarlet about the hills,
Peace did sing to soothe,
(hands seeking soft petals)
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2014
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