Paisley Patterns

Our eyes weave paisley patterns of frail leaves.
The sun pours thickly over all that grieves.
There is an ancient angel in the hills
Blowing a song so beautiful it chills.

Heaven and earth are at our fingertips.
Time books passage on coffee colored ships
Of clouds that heap the atmosphere so high
The image creates mountains of good-bye.

Great words alone can never set the pace
That turns the mood so heavily through space.
We have no final answer for this day
Except Perhaps, God wanted it that way.

Previously published; In The Lampost

by Sandra Fowler

Comments (13)

A very nice poem, well written.
A masterly take on the meaning of life Sandra, and as always you present us with such good pieces. I loved re-reading this one. thanks. love from Fay.
I like this poem very much Sandra, it has a peaceful element to it. A true pleasure to read. Melvina
great poem. good byes do sometimes seem like anchors pulling me down. i love the technical symmetry and rhyme - especially when fitted with such imagery
You use earth, sun, and weather to create 'atmosphere'. Grief - and acceptance of the inevitability of loss. 'To love that well which thou must leave ere long.'
See More