20th January 2011

Walking words come by my vision and
lonely shadows hide –
the world beyond the winds
is more than clouds and
and heaven is more than
anything you’ll ever miss and
push aside.
Let me tell you dear,
I haven’t changed,
and neither has the way the sun lit up.
I haven’t cried,
not for long at least since the fire died.
But in my heart I believe
and I can see
I still weep
yet softer
than the rain that washes down my windowpanes.