I used to like the sound of spring
We sit under the muscadine
The flowers only bloom
We too
We too

I watched with youthful vision
Thinking this
Is why I'm living
And love was merely matephor
For life

I used to like the sound of spring
The wrens and in the citrus grove
The honeysuckles sweet
We too
We too

I felt in jubilation
Thinking this
Is my salvation
And hope was born with every sun
Will rise

I've read many a book since then
Suffered many a scar

I used to like the sound of spring
I used to

November comes
with the wild geese
in their V like memories
of an arrow flying
too close to the sun
and their feathers shining
as their wings beat as one
drum in the distance
signaling that winter
is coming, and the cold
days will keep us inside
warmed by the fires we crave
deep in our caves painting
and dreaming away.

I  am knocking on  doors,
open  them and hear me
shout across the U.S.A. :

I may be black as blindness
or rainbow hue,
but I am as
American,

as you.

In silver light golden pearl of beauty
My love comes to light with her style
From petal to petal allow me to see
The universe stands still for a while

What is love and what is the beauty
Both are two fiery galaxies to collide
What all treasure you carry let me see
Only crimson light dominate to ride

My sweetheart you have taken my life
I have presented my heart and my soul
If you are satisfied keeping me on knife
Love puts itself on beauty as a whole

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

flowing words that ripples through,
painted pain in the waters
waiting to be
understood.