The night imparts poetry to me
a verse of wind whispers
and shadow dance
when freedom is a watchword
dripped like tears from a time of want;
love is the fertile ground.
Gives birth to dreams and dreamers
and nurtures the keep when
wings must sleep, and abide
the unerring flow of deep rivers
Freedom is in a prayer
before it is in a breath
and their crumpled wishes
lift lightly from my lips,
I remember...my debt
of gratitude
No comments:
Post a Comment