Turning point
I would
sing the flowers of their stalks
to be your
daily little comet
you,
who makes
the morning worth wile
with
friendly words
still in
your robe
and sleep
in your eyes
suddenly wiped away,
a turning-point
happiness so simple and pure
a wild rose on the window-sill
it’s the wine out of the goblet
the blood that I drink
His body that I eat
how can He forget you
you were the sun
who lifted my burden
the love you gave
and never reclaimed
it’s a such a sin,
it’s an eternal shame.
© Rudi J.P.
Lejaeghere
07/11/2014
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