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.
Awash among a driftwood tide
of love and laughter’s dizzy gaze
her hopeful pirouettes collide;
his hesitancy cautious, prays.
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.
Remember now these words tonight
and go, frame life through love, aright.