Gentle
Gentle,
Come gently to the door
Where man may lose sight
Of the whispering candle glow.
Come gently, lest the wind
Of your own careless passing
Should douse the light we know.
Come gently past the flame
Of all man’s limitless hope
In the hopeless dreams he sows.
Gentle,
Lest the savage night settle in.
The Tide
She looks into the waves,
obscured in the fog.
They come to her
endlessly,
as so many others have.
Bionote
D.F. Paul is an author, poet, and photographer living in the midwestern United States. He hates more than anything talking about himself. His work can be viewed at dfpaul.wordpress.com .
No comments:
Post a Comment