The Private Lives of Saints

Heaven is a new pair of shoes.
Peace is mine when muscles forget to ache.
Hope arrives on wings of bread,
Solace in a faithful friend.

What do these arms describe,
This heart, this road, this mind?
What do these restless dreams confide?

Love is a flower. I watch it grow,
The thorns, the blood, the rose.
Ask her what I feel. She knows.
She knows. She knows.

November 19, 2006

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