The Lily Of The Vale

This rose
The Rose of Sharon
A meadow saffron of white and violet
Beholden in my hands

I will sip His crimson dew

That confers me life eternal
And for those humble souls that seek Him
Shall find verve shadowed forth therein

This rose

This lily of the vale has withered
Buried and sown
Has risen like seed from the earth

Sons of Adam and daughters of Eve

Of salvation clothe themselves
With chaplets of flowers and crowns
Scented with a golden citron of eternity

Some have sipped this crimson dew

And hearkened to this Passion Flower
Fairer more than all flowers of all fields
And any may come and partake

Copyright Wandering Satellite Publishing 2013

Let The Willow Weep

Wordless the willow weeps
I will lie within her boughs
Inflection of her crying tones
Whilst not bother me

Art thou not a sanctuary to many?

So what say you of your moan?
Slender in your parasol of branches
Say not I feel for you

Articulate to the breeze that enfolds you
Remain with me here tranquil, poignant
May my lure compel you?
Vex not, thou subsist not for thyself

What then say you?

Is the secret to your weep?
Christened are you not…
The weeping willow

^{Copyright 2013 Wandering Satellite Publishing}