In a flowing brook lined with stones,
A stream of water gently roams.
Nourishing the faded and listless to life,
Opposing gray with soft light rife.
Like an adagio’s gentle melodic warming,
Preceding allegro’s triumphant swarming.
The gentleness upon eager ears,
The preponderance of growing tears.
But where, O Love, do you wish me to be?
Set upon velvet moss, on greener lea?
I sense your heart envelops mine,
A crimson thread joins in one straight line.
And here near cool water which to our heart warms
We embrace each other in loving arms
Your feet I wash in servant’s call,
Hope forever, after all.
(c) 2014 Rick Stassi