A window of pools

Its not the tears that make me cry

but the wonder of their springs

that which beats upon their strings

coursing through the mind,

the ever spreading golden rings

that weep within my eyes.

 

This countenance of singing trickles

that ever flows the stream

a consciousness of rutting waves

gently swaying to the dream,

remembrance from a long ago

that cradle along the creek,

making for the running waters

my heart, my soul, too deep.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s