For A Gypsy
I read the ache of time in the marrow of your linesThe dust of years the love careers sorrowing your bones
Like a gypsy with a gift of song windmills drone of Summer's laugh
Retrace the path that called you here so long ago the flame
Came growing through the dreamy notes out of the blue
What would it take to heal the wounds your heart scraped and fell
To hide the secret thoughts you lock away, shall one day tell
And take a toll, a little light that burned so bright and fine
Curled up in the shadows of thrown away verse, we all rehearse to be
Ourselves when life refuses to come naturally
So let it go, will be alright, returned your sight may shine
I read the ache of time, in the marrow of your lines
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1405 times
Written on 2014-01-02 at 15:56
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