Pour Your Heart Out
Whilst tomorrow's maze summer heart may grieve
Ripened feel of the mine and old heart's weave.
The seam leaves and fine bright colored petal
utter silence of my home, unsettle.
As on a canvas of colors, same when
A process or art of using the pen.
Yesterday back, while sermons echo in strife,
an abandoned bethel, resolving My life.
Do I have time to fill the pages chapters,
with enthralled memories morning after's?
As clouds feather out like angel wings,
and the moon traces behind ancient things.
Through a foggy window that returns me;
While a curtain of dreams is drawn it left be.
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