Words...

-Words-

These shapes and feelings, the efflorescent stealing's of my heart, the rhyme upon the tip of this feathering quill, a skill, deftly stroked upon the soul of another, my lover, whose eternity wraps her arms in the gossamer airs of night, to twinkle through the filigree's of starlight, that play upon the pages of these scripted verses, born for all the ages we have ever known, forsworn by every gratitude to each that was ever grown, a twin heart, beats time within my own. These cymbals of love, that sound upon the parchment with scratchings of earth and fire, resound within a hearth, stoked by the coals of this living desire, mark time, in sweet rhythm upon my heart, the sounding bell upon the depths, from which each feathered dip does swell, to crash upon the shore of every word that sings of this love, and speaks for two, a fusion of rebirth, forever bespoke upon wings reborn, flown between the crashing waves, the smouldering tide, the seething page, fervent words, drawn from out the ink well of this love. Words...

© Richard Michael Parker 2016