The Poetry Of Angel

 
 
Passing Time

When music's
passion wounds,
I sip a blushing
wine to soften
the sting of
its beauty

when art
carves the
image of my
loneliness,
I bite into
my dreams
and swallow
despair

and when
words hold
the power
to reveal
a secret
sadness,
I play a
sultry love
song to
conger
the
company
of dancing
spirits

but what do
I do when
heaven calls
for blue and
some foul
creature has
emptied the
sky?

I sip, and I
sing and I
dream some
more
©7/6/99


 

 

 

 


Please enable Java in your browser. See http://www.wyka-warzecha.com for more details.