Wednesday, December 24, 2003


I wish to whisk you away, whispering
(my words caught in your ears)
holding tight your soft hands,
falling blindly into your eyes
(thunderbolt bright with a hint of summer).

Faith, I put my trust in the wind
to lead me, the sun and wish alive.

Hope, I yearn to hold more than the air
alive with the thought of you.

Charity, to give back the greatest gift of all,
uncensored, unequivocal, repentant of the past,
embracing the future,
the memory of your hands touching mine
(the touch still felt).

Copyright 2002 by Peter A. Stinson.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry 360 with permission of the author.

No comments: