What is lost when dreams fall into the shadows?
When heroes sleep after the dark clouds come
Baring my whole heart to the ugly fate of time?
When there is only the bare cupboard of necessity.

The loss is bitter unless the sunrise warms my heart
Or your smile lights the edges
Where sight finds the golden promise
Passed along by my grandfather.

Each day moves into the center of my longing
Hoping for a place of tenderness and gifts.
Shall we walk together holding hands,
Enclosed in a bubble of love?

Maybe we do have butterfly wings, which grow
With the heart’s warmth, joy and helpfulness.
Yes I know this and seek that warmth
With reckless gladding and keenth.

Bill Westley Feb 11/08