Tuesday, 15 September 2015

HEY THERE BUD by Bob Paris ©9-15-2015

Photo ©Bob Paris 1996 all rights reserved
Shall glory be cut along this wind
That is but unquenched inside a thirst
For the eye that seizes a glimpse
Of what not the beating heart might see
On a mirror set dark and marching to
A bagpipe and snare-drum tune wailing
Toward what or where or how or when
Might draw a billow of pure undying light
And song and mirth and melancholy smiles
On that branch that was but yesterday
A bud so overfilled by promise
Bucked up upon this wind


HEY THERE BUD by Bob Paris ©9-15-2015