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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
Thirty-four sings softly in the
moonlight,
Hoping to disturb a passing soul.
In beauty only does one see God's face,
Reckoning the power by the grace,
Touching so the sunlight in the coal.
Years of song are swallowed by the good night.
Fear not, for the burning of the first
light
Opens up a window on the whole,
Unveiling within a touch of torchlight
Resplendent as the harmonies of home. |
