Call

by

Thomas Granger

The wind blows gentle in the planes then it rushes quick bye me
As if to tell me I am not what I compose
The ground it seems to tremble, making even Christians see
Does not compare us to the beauty of a rose

Breaking free from its fall, on its tumble to the ground
Then turns a violent spiral to take rest
Remembering the times that she never made a sound
As the moisture in her pedals I caressed

To see the sunshine wither what once it had help grow
Turning us all closer still to dust
Hiding all the feelings that you're trying not to show
Fooling all the sacred things I trust

My emotions time has tempered into diamond, carbon steel
Also into a razor's edge as well
Cutting to the bone, down to the feelings I can't feel
Burying me deep beneath your spell

Still the starlight glistens like it always has and will
Bringing tears to my eyes as the fall
When I listen to you calling out for Love from on the hill
I don't think that you are calling me at all

NEXT?
Why don't you look at His House
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Thomas Granger's poems, click HERE

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