FEELINGS IN A WHISPER

Sweet Chariots are Coming

I listen with head tilted and ear cupped.
I hear them coming in the east
as subtly as the rising of the sun.

I hear them with my soul now
as they reach a crescendo at noon.
The music pounds in my chest
and I join them in glad song.

I rest now.
The music has softened
as the sun sets in the west.
I lay me down to sleep
in the cradle of the night.

I awaken daily
as they ride
again and again
from the east.

One day the chariot will stop
And I will be a part of its song.

Swing low, sweet chariot,
coming for to carry me home . . .
No more sinking in the west.
I am home.

Words on Soft Lips

You breathed warm words
from soft lips.
A feeling I did not want to lose
passed into emotion
and was permanently
fixed there
for a lifetime of pleasure.

The next words
had a parting sadness
that said goodbye
underneath your tears
and mine,
and the soft rain,

Words on soft lips
are not forgotten.
Decades are speaking,
even now . . .
and I am sad and glad.