By Robert A. Rife, April 12, 2013

These dreams, they sit in search of home

a place where wishing feeds no more

on fodder fit for those who roam

but heart’s are fed with love restored.

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Awash among a driftwood tide

of love and laughter’s dizzy gaze

her hopeful pirouettes collide;

his hesitancy cautious, prays.

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A garden, still, in Springtime comes

to bless the air with fragrance, sweet.

And angels dance to pipe and drum

when new love breathes and faces meet.

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Remember now these words tonight

and go, frame life through love, aright.

Picture: www.zedge.net