Love is pure, fair, and calm
When it buds out of the blue.
It will fill our life in such a way
Like the morn and its dew.
With an awe most dear,
The lure of love so new
And the draw of its rare form,
Will make us sure our joy is true.
Thus, each step we make is spry,
Each idea in our mind is full of glee,
As with hope we rise anew each day
Keen in our want, our love to free.
About the Creator
Cindy Calder
From Charleston SC - "I am still learning." Michelangelo
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More stories from Cindy Calder and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Dryads are Calling
They say the forest by Phoenix River sings. Perhaps it is just the wind howling through the leaves, or a particular birdsong. But Percy Fisher knows better; he knows what lies in those woods, and he knows that the forest sings of his demise.
By Leigh Hooperabout 22 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
loved the way it was written
Loved this, it flows so smoothly that I got wrapped in the music of your words.