When I Am Reborn Poem by James McLain

A fine soft leather glove of weave
from heaven to grace both fine
hands of silk such is vain it glows.
To wealth I know discarded now to
grow with the rest a pile that weeps
lost tears much joy.
To poor though worthy soul in your
hand would grace the cup to keep
such heart can never afford such
comfort so.
Wish it may wish is might the cloudy
sky the star dims light breaths sight.
Piano wood grand tunes to play the
songs I would teach forever and a
day stands out the key so right my
stool to cup you tight in loves embrace.