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One last call, for angels wing
To walk this earth, to walk with me
To tread these bricks, of sand and stone
Whilst rivers sing, sweet songs of hope
One last call, for angels wing
To fill thine soul, to fill thine breach
To slay these cares, for bread and drink
Whilst rivers floods, float love to speech
One last call, for angels wing
To cure this wound, to cure this dream
To kill thine ache, in heart and mind
Whilst rivers flow, brings hope in lite
Wow, this is ethereal and liquid, a dynamic expression of being lost and found, a yearning in a petite prayer. I love it, thanks for sharing!
love
paper
While I'm not a huge fan of using archaic words like "thine" this poem has wonderful visuals. I especially love the first two lines. One little suggestion - I think you have a typo in the 8th line. It should be "Whilst rivers flood". Nice job!
I thoroughly agree with paper; this is a minor gem of a piece. Very much prayer like with a very pleasant rhythm, lovely refrain, and a rhyme scheme that enhances rather than detracts. I especially liked:
"Whilst rivers floods, float love to speech"
and the way the anxiety of "floods" leads right into the hope of "floats". Very nicely done.