call me,
hear in the
deep of
my soul’s earth shadows
sing to me
on the wind,
passing always
my eyes
so old
so ever alone,
i feel your lips
long lost sips
of a heart’s blood.
in a dance of song
i long...
for,
whisper to me
where,
they need never see,
i am a poet
roped to a tree.
sweet child
where are your fingers
lying deep in a woman’s
soul.
you know still the
dance
we danced
before your eyes
went lost
sold to a father’s fear
where are your dreams
but,
tears lost
in a poet’s hand.
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
Ron
Sandie