Monday, October 13, 2014

Genie


On our carpet
Of words,
We flew all night
Like the nightly birds.
Little lamps -
Of people’s tired nights,
A kaleidoscope -
Of ordinary dreams and fights.
We flew over the rivers,
Over the highways,
Roping places together
Strings of grays.
We held tightly,
Our hands
As we flew on our carpet
Over grieving lands.
We pondered
Over people’s sorrows.
Thought of mighty ways
To make them pillows.
Our carpet,
Our dear world,
Was weaved in purple
With brocades of gold.
Others admired -
During the day.
Our carpet, they dreamed of
And wished as they may.
The carpet is still there
But our faith unstable,
We have grown up
And doubt if it’s able.
The purple is dusty
And the gold weary -
As we are away
On path, far dreary.
I wish for again
The carpet flights
And see from above
The city lights.
Do you have faith?
Would you daunt?
A flight with me
Would you want?
If I am left alone
With our carpet of love
I will still fly
Like the white dove.

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