Sing Me In Song Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

Sing me in spring like a sparrow's song
or the tongue of a gypsy river,
like peepers beneath a jade sarong
or skirts of wind in full-blown quiver.

Sing me in summer with morning rain
on tin rooftops shaking with thunder,
in water-spun sails that winds unchain
over magical realms thereunder.

Sing me in autumn with cashmere sleeves,
in flames of a crackling fire,
in patchwork puddles of fallen leaves
or a church bell in lofty spire.

Sing me in winter, snow-soft serene,
in baskets brimming with fluffs of white,
in wordless bouquets of evergreen
beneath the moon on a starry night.

Sing me in song from a poet's pen
onto the vellum of sacred scrolls
that I might sing forever again
between the lips of a thousand souls.