With your heart buttoned up tight
And your soul scrubbed to transluscence
You tip-toed around mountains
And visited the sand and sea
Contained in your selfness
And at ease in your skin
You glided without leaving footsteps
With the grace of angels
Perhaps a church organ and choir
Vibrated in the air
But the world moved on
At a less sedate rate of orbit
And sadly
It would not
And could not
Wait
By Phil Roberts