Nov 5, 2012

An appeal for my soul, an appeal in winter.

Well, it has been more long than a long time should be. It has been an over-long time. And yet for all the time that has passed I have only this to offer:

Somehow you know better,
than ever I will know,
that words are more than letters,
and Winter more than snow.

Oh, don't leave-go your labor,
I learn so stubborn-slow,
if salt should lose its flavor,
will lamplight lose its glow?

Please let me be a sailor,
in a field let me sow,
but don't withhold your favor,
or ever let me go.