My first poem since October…I hope I haven’t lost my touch, or in a perfect world, a break from poetry may have fueled my love of it! In the end, the reader is the judge…
Glow’ng lights of a dying day
Gifted sight to locked eyes,
Sweet silence in her secret realm;
A place for her alone to dwell.
A world of peace to her displayed,
Her mystic world from them will hide.
The tree upon the hill: It sings
Ballads of lights from green to blue,
Leaves of folded glass are formed
And drift among the calm of storms.
Their song invites her to step in
A welcome home; gift of the muse.