By the fire they share quilts and the words fall golden. One sings filigreed bits of her craft to new pages Sketching sounds like silk into her book. Time be truant to her lovely grace. And of the angel at her side One can only say of your valiant books to be: To the merry-go-round with you Dance on sunny porches and let love ache for wind blushed cheeks. Laugh and look tiny poetess before your brow sweat steals kisses from the ground. jenesaisquoi (c) 2004 |
| Dedicated to Kristen and Sam |
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| When the Words fall Golden |