Playful part, toying with my art.

Make shape through me–

grace be to record the message..

of the line…of the time.

Innocence raw, pure set before with glimmering shine.

Language only I understand–land in my palm, my lap.

Alert the mind, prepare the soul–outpour, downpour…come to me.

Make me but a means to an end.

Tend to creativity, vision, glow.

I am but a Shepard always in tow. These two eyes wide as bowls at the spark it beholds.

Playful part always toying with my art.

For Jingle’s Thursday Poets Rally Week 29

Thanks for the friendship Jingle!

Advertisements