Saturday, November 3, 2018

Of Molded Strings







We sense it…
Long before the rifts
As
Love bends us
With lended gifts
While
Ordinary Disappears
Into a Blur
Of yester-years
Where
oft the kiss
Of This soft-rends
Beginnings through
With subtle ends
So
even while
We sense the tug
We smile and sing
And laugh and hug
For
 what good is
The hands that clings
To ribbons made of
Yester-things
And
what good is
The Cup we hold
If we are pining
For its mold

© Janet Martin


No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.