'Hope' Poem by James McLain

As for her heart, love but a string
anything of that of which are the sparrow it's feathers.
There is a stopping by, 'woods of her mind
and 'hope' without words, spoken never lived quite, melancholia
conditions which is sung and never and being sweetly
she/her master tears stop,
the strong wind hearing and bearing the scar, 'must be the storm,
as for that she/I' where ever it is possible to be.
Sweetly, perplexed by the small bird, many is warm
and sit by it and maintains;
But of the coolest hand and none inquired or for shame
about that of the strangest open sea, never, with the point,
that asked of ye, a poem, open your palm thus of thy bread
hearkened to all winged or not falls the crumbs.


e.d.