Yesterday, we breathed the softest pains.
My child, she wept near unseen stains
while watching animation’s plot:
A web-fed mother’s power drains.
And I, by chance, those feelings caught
as silent tears – the purest draught
of love in flow from heartwards bend
to mend another’s broken lot.
What subtle joy, with this amend :
I see this empathy’s portend –
a gracious life from my descend
will bear this strength to man’s ascend!
(Submitted for OpenLinkNight at dVersePoets)
I have beaten my love on that anvil of heart
and have quenched all my fire in those hissings of oil.
Wavering lines form the flat with gray coldness impart,
while the crystalled display has perfected my toil.
Yet the say of the sand is no more reprimand,
for free rings the soul of this sword from your hand.