A place to call home,
laying under a stream
of humming illumination
There are smokey chimneys
and starry filled canvases
of navy painting the air above the rooftops
The lights on the homes
glitter and glow
I wish you could see it, too
You comprehend it,
the left behind treasures
the carols holding hands with years before
hanging above them listlessly
You can hear them
and see them with me
unlike any other before
A chimney is not simply brick and bone
A village isn’t simply a place to dwell
You see between the lines
above the ugly
and shaming the bitter
You can hear them
and can firmly grasp the heart
Beating behind the scenes
You hold it together
some of kind metaphorical glue are you.
Dawning Creations 
Leave a reply to Warren Richards Cancel reply