Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
The heavens at the summit…
“Rest your weary wings upon the air”…
Let the wind of love carry you here
Carry you there - as long as it,
Submits to roost with me my, tit.
“Let god’s love give all else wings”…
Egrets on the peak of a mountain:
They’ll not be seen in their couplings,
By those he calls his brethren.
“Let the wind gather the last prophet”.
We’ll make our nests - our pallet!
Amongst; the heavens at the summit…
In this love - we’ll simply plummet.
Comments about this poem (The heavens at the summit… by Mark Heathcote )
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