POEM: "The Waters"

The Waters

The sun is going deeper

I hear your thoughts begin to dance

At Bethesda, house of pity and mercy

By the old sheep market

I have grown so weary of my flaws

Lord, please save me from embattled men

Their seasons are all the waters we have

The evening burns to dark, and you say

You're just jealous because the voices only speak to me

This stunning revelation, I feed you a peach of peach.

© 2010 Rob Schackne