Saturday, December 15, 2007


the frailty of the limb in winter
like the hand of a lover once so true
so delicate so white...
if only they knew..

that within the root, love grew

the spring time spark long past winter's dark
kiss of night to daylight's plight
and dreams drift softly in the clouds...

such fingers dance touching the sky
wondering why the birds have all gone
and yet, though whispering winds, a magic begins
sweetly singing a naked tune.