How can I begin,
Without starting from where I am?
Can a travelers heart be free with love so close at hand?
In twilight hours, sitting long, composing simple hymns,
Painting salt-water taffy dreams from teary wells within.
The air is crisp, I walk
Night flower blooms, street lamp to display
Sweet plum flowers inner glow
Despite the chilly, bitter Spring
Kiss’d by bless’ed fairy fire
The thought lends warmth to a cool heart.
A little church, vine covered,
Glows too with old love, held deep within worn stone.
Buds and bricks with inner light,
A wanderer still seeking his,
Luminescent moon hidden, but bright…
A reflection or a lesson?
The street welcomes my lonely feet.