Counting wings in a flock of birds
Broken limbs and unsung words.
High above a sea of trees
Two doves collide in symmetry.
Sweet warmth of spring
and all the things
of love we learned
From that sacred burn
Seared inside and sewn up tight,
Two misfit hearts so full of light
In the twilight's tender gleam,
Whispers dance in silent dreams.
Silver stars and moonbeams gold,
weave the quilt where dreams are told.
A storm afoot in early spring,
but I'm safe beneath your wings
A star is born, the veil is torn,
All we dream now given form.