by kholinar

…and on…
past the garden of cut flowers,
through the poems of dear words,
beyond the men in borrowed robes…

…on to life and bed-horizons
with my love lying in the west
she falls like rays across my form
and breath, her rhythm, quiets all

Here the dusk
is shaded walks
of friends and spirits
‘neath the trees
Here the promise
is rewarded
by twelve birds
amidst the leaves

and here it is not muttered
here it reaches, lines the deep
here it breaks, and here it shelters
here the sparrows never flee
And if we make our nest in winter
it only bodes a brighter spring