Home and Rhyme
Breath again, my withered flower
Let not fragrance die with thee.
Leave thy seed; it at nothing trembles,
But thy soul, in wilting, grieves with me.
I my soul, in apprehensive hour,
Take to heart as our protected guild.
But today on different paths at parting
My soul grieves our solitary yield.
The lips of dawn have kissed the yawning flower.
Night only weeps a million drops of dew.
The nightingale warbles at this hour.
I deem not far away to keep
my stay with you.
I have this need and,
for loves reason, this yearning
To settle down, to nurse our
home and rhyme.
We've traveled much, and have grown old
in turning,
To every pain except now yours and mine.
Leave thy seed; their fate at nothing trembles,
But let not fragrance die with thee.
Love will see, but hearsay starts wheels turning,
Curse the bloodbath, and the hangman's tree.
In yonder twilight the old folks home is donning
an empty heart, a chair for you and me.
Bind the wheel chair, it dares at shadows turning
Our pierced side cries, afresh, on Calvary.
To Dickie Bird
No other love. ---- E. Cirilo
by Eleazar Cirilo, n.d.
All works here, Copyright © Lotus D. Cirilo, 1999
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