Thursday, January 2, 2014

Soft Among the Reeds They Wake...

Soft, soft among the reeds they wake
To wander ‘cross the sky
A glimmer on time’s winter lake
Into the by and by

Moon-mellow moments spill to naught
Then daylight tips the scale
Before its blue and gold is caught
In midnight’s mystic grail

From far-off shores to home-front door
This breaking, taking wake
Of kissing you and missing you
Tucks years into its strake

© Janet Martin


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