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Cotton laughs love to live
Forgive the day its nightly trespasses;
Molassess not so sweet as love
Above the ground, at least;
The worms may feast upon the soul
Whole they never quite achieve,
They leave before the deed is done
One or two will still remain
In the soil, drink the rain,
Worms that eat the soverign kings
Sing their song in waters blue
To fish that feeds the peasant's son;
One or two will still remain
But trains never de-rail
When hail push them fast
They blast on, like a golden fire
In dire need of home.



Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 527 times
Written on 2008-06-28 at 04:58

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My goodness me Michael, this is a fine tribute to what a real home offers us all. I love the motion of that train, pushing through all weather to get to our most secure and treasured place. Home certainly is where the heart is and you demonstrate this perfectly in the most divine language of our distant past. ~The first line is one to live by....love it. Smiling at you, Tai
2008-06-28