To Feel
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To Feel

They appear in utter sadness,
or if there is something in our eye
they stream our sudden feelings,
but it's okay,  we all do cry

We hold them close,
or set them free
when times are good,
or misery

To float, to fly, to wonder high
in Paris by the Louvre
in arms, in eyes, in painted pose
where pain was once removed

Shan't be streams leave Autumn's door
the silver shines alone
a touch, too sweet for memory
in dreams you are at home

Discretion sits still satin falls
a whisper gently heeds her call

© Tim Smith . All Rights Reserved.


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