tired heart

Paul Cezanne
Long gone are those times
of somber sunsets
and restful nights.
How I wish the feeling
of breathing
the predawn air
would never end.
Gardenia scent so rich
in late night dew-
from outside
into my arable
formless soul,
awaiting
the hands of
God
to sow and nurture
a seed of love
in my tender
but tired heart.
(c) 2020 Rick Stassi

 

 

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