The book talks about finding that place
Of the unknown
This is my kind of book, sensitive sentiments
Which wash over my toes on into my bloodstream
In meditation or religion or sacred sacrifice
A quiet moment, a creeping of the nape hair
Yesterday through the window, through the mirror
The lost lonely face in touch with her own unknown
Should I interrupt, would that have been to care
Somehow instructed I drove on, and onwards
I did not leave you, you are with me
I do not grieve for you, please believe me
I open the post, an invitation to the resurrection
Unlike most, I have been there, I carry you easily
I wiggle my toes, perfectly formed within
I know no sin, I smile deep and knowing
You will never return to hold my hand
Yet forever you will be beside me
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| Available on Amazon |