slow sail north
up a river
dream
while you still dare
to believe
a chill within
a long summer wind
calls to years lost
on worn fingertips
tapping to sweet music
blues in a folk melody
words
a poet’s eyes
he can’t see the pictures
of life’s rain
just words
as paint
crevices across his face
longer stains
as all that ever remains

in dreams
where a man
bleeds his belief
onto a poet’s pages
strong as cloth
carrying
with the winds
slow sail
north.

- jude