THEN like when early mornings
nodding wakefully by sunlight
and youthful slowly days turning
the page of that thick book of life
by when had once, and of their
loved moments of glad grace,
and the song of tender feelings
that by nature sings to hearts
between/below the rays of light
by babbling brook and glowing bars
And swollen tears too pregnant to birth
the breach of wishing, little sadly,
to see the dream fleeing upward
into the misty mountains overhead
I hide my own heart; my own life
the precious dreams of my own wishing!

:: 06-16-2015 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

You must be logged in to post a comment.

%d bloggers like this: