Friday, 20 April 2012
Swing me soft
She is still a monumental beauty
a transfixed image sealed in the field of my memory.
I venture there often to play and watch.
This cool evening
She was by the swing possessing a pale face.
I watched her dwell in sadness for a time till she realised
a dear friend was watching her poor countenance.
She called out, my lover, my lover.
come here and swing me soft.
Allow a movement into my still state.
I drew near
unable to resist her call
for she charms my soul
whatever theme it may be.
I do not worry about what I will eat I do not worry about where I will sleep For the whole world is His And everything in it. I do not ...