a dish of orts
just some little bits that came into my mind today…
tiny fingers tangle pressing
spark my soul, so tracing lines.
the warm, soft press of her glad face
speaks a silent choice to mine.
As the house burns
and sad hearts gladly reconcile.
In ash, love bares it’s soul intention
and bravely dares to smile.
Be with me, my
wrestle angels, daybreak waits.
Kiss a promise
lure the fool who needs no bait.