Slowly Poem by Nicole Middendorf

While I gently weep,
My heart goes to sleep.
I tell the world my sorrows'
As well so does he.
I run my fingers through the grass,
Pulling the strands apart,
I release them to the wind;
It plays them like an angel's harp.
Tears in heaven gracefully fall,
The dandelions are still golden,
Drenched are the silver streets,
As well as my eyes out spoken...
Oh, while I gently weep,
My heart is lost at sea.