Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Weep no more

"Do flowers cry?," he asked the Rose,
Her cheeks all streaked with dew--
Or was it rain? "He knows," thought she.
How strange that he should ask,
In such a casual way!
It must be clear to him as day.

She bowed her head to hide her tears,
Which fell like Summer stars,
Each one like fire in her heart:
Those burning tears! And, since
He'd caused each one to flow,
She would not let them go.
--Kindred Spirit

Monday, May 16, 2011


He plays the strings so softly,
his fingers touch my heart.
A long-forgotten pain
is remembered in the chords:
The trembling sound of hope--
I hear it once again.
Play on, my heartstrings cry;
play on!
--Kindred Spirit