The cold air
Swirls like cotton
Rain drops
Slowly to the ground
Threads of colour
Dance down the creases
Of black umbrellas.
The Vicar’s words
Shatter hushed silence
And curiosity rises
A quiet fascination
Held in spun sound
Hushed words of life
Spilled in sorrows ground.
A disturbing thought
Slips into my mind
Perhaps the grief
Mingles with time and age
Just past the center
Close to midnight
Is buried together
On the stroke of hope
Beams of light
Lift darkened tears
With the colour of life
That spins its threaded chart
I treasure the promise
Around my trembling heart.I treasure the promise
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Written for Poets United and Theme Thursday
