Wednesday, July 2, 2008


love will kiss
the weary, a storm
at night on a tin roof
over the face, hands

rain will kiss
the dry,
water seeping through the
sand into the heart, where

lips will be kissed

and mercy, in the corners
of the roundest places

like angels will kiss
which is never bliss;
"only bliss is bliss"
(my friend John always says)

1 comment:

Cynthia said...

An insightful, healing poem.
Wedging between what is inwardly known and hoped for.