Tuesday, May 29, 2012

No Flame, but Word

Dear Mary,

No flame, but word. No hesitation, but wish.
Maybe false spoken because of foreign tongue.
A friend of mine wishes you well, so do I.
Your inspiration leads to thanks, so I bow mine.

Don't know you, just your words. But even though
I feel a kind soul, I want to keep fighting.
Please hear the weird sound of my imagination.

The wild tippering feet of the wolves guarding your ground.
The nervous flight of the hawks, watching the sky.
The calm grind of the mole, searching the deep.

Let them be, make them yours, give them names.
For those send shall be yours to be.
A present of my imagination, inspired by your words.

May my words be a mirror for your kindness.
May my wishes be a cure for your worst.


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