 |
| http://www.drpkp.com/2016/06/crow-fury.html |
Cold Comfort
the little girl tiptoed to
see her - the sunporch
chilly in the first shock
shivering just a bit - she
approached - and there
as she knew she would
be - she sat - that bright
quilt draped on shoulders
Regal - I swore she spoke
to me as always-whispers
in the rustle of the willow
I felt her touch - her hand
veined and blue and firm
floating on mine - She,
my touchstone-talisman
approached - and there
as she knew she would
be - she sat - that bright
quilt draped on shoulders
Regal - I swore she spoke
to me as always-whispers
in the rustle of the willow
I felt her touch - her hand
veined and blue and firm
floating on mine - She,
my touchstone-talisman
Love - for it was always
love ... Love, said she is
the lift - the spice - the
laugh of life - in some
spectral knowing my
eyes suddenly stung
by her coming goneness
love ... Love, said she is
the lift - the spice - the
laugh of life - in some
spectral knowing my
eyes suddenly stung
by her coming goneness
She held my tears ..
her voice in my soul
her voice in my soul
Do not weep little bird -
never waste a wit on
worry - you will grow -
you will fly and soar -
to love, to live, to laugh.
Yes, even without me...
for I am always there..
for I am always there..
I sigh and run fingers
across my faded soft
quilt - chilled on this
night - touched with
fear - I run my fingers
on my faded quilt and
suddenly in brilliant
conflagration burning
softly, strongly bright
in the distant twinkle
of these cold dark nights -
needed...
She
night - touched with
fear - I run my fingers
on my faded quilt and
suddenly in brilliant
conflagration burning
softly, strongly bright
in the distant twinkle
of these cold dark nights -
needed...
She
shines.
and somehow
I hear the soft
sound of small
footsteps
tiptoeing
to and fro
and somehow
I hear the soft
sound of small
footsteps
tiptoeing
to and fro
