Gord

2018-04-12 05:46 am

His life a vine, with walls to climb,
A sign of reeds, tall as the ceiling.
It reads: peace on earth, healing.

He easily remarks, needing, tired,
With nobodies hiring he sings songs.
Shouts at the crowd pink psalms, skimmed,
Thinking along, forward and onward;
Successor non, foreign legion stalwart.

His heart a fire, with walls to climb,
Passions fleeting, of paint peeling,
With art to desire, of maxims meeting.

Of dirt green, or fences mended,
Grudge son's, however defenseless.