Voyages of a Ship Named Heart

The Heart Comes

The Heart comes as silent Wind
On a winter day
Gone Grey

The Heart . . .
A gentle hand
Fingers brush the sky
The barren Tree
The revealed limbs quiver

The Heart
Faithful ship of the Line
It drifts just above the winter boughs
Reflected in the silver droplets
Shimmering in the fleshless branches

The Pilot
Captain of the Heart
Consults the maps in his hand
Looks . . .
Finds you watching

And gentle as a puff of breath
He brings his sacred ship to land
At your side . . .

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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