Into My Arms Poem by Carolyn Ford Witt

- * INTO MY ARMS * -

Your form in tempest
Came to me.
Your pain was fresh.
Fresh as could be.

The Anger wearing
On your sleeve.
You yell at me
I turn to leave.

But all at once
The tempests calm
As anger wraps
In words of psalm.

And eyes of blue
Do look inside,
And there is no where
That I could hide.

The gentleness that
Did ensue
Into my heart
Would bring me, you.

So late she did
Throw you away
Into my arms,
You come to stay.

Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
©2-16-06