My Soul It Entwines The Page Poem by James Wakelin

The soul it speaks so soft I let it ramble
It must have its charm to hold
and let go of each feathered word
no dont go to heaven while my feet are cold
too little time in front of my mirror at home
I want to see all that can be
with my toes in a hole
made by a rabbit who left home
oh well I must leave too
with a heart measured leap
into a space roomy to keep
Thine eyes over your treasure
Too close to let go
My soul it wants to dance as it speaks
to the tune of a home
made by hands who made gold
complete
with you
hold!