Bed of buds

Renewed

Will you call upon me at the day's end,
Your voice roaring above breaking waves
Like the cry of a lost bird?
I shall come, I shall come upon your door,
Slap it open against the wind,
Paint you little songs to play with and smile
I shall come to hold your hand, to be by your side,
To inhale the darkness that scalds your soul
Till you are filled with light once again.


Sometimes we are the caller and sometimes we are the called. But if we are neither, then life definitely needs a rethink.