Robert Charles Howard
Robert Charles Howard Poems
Comments about Robert Charles Howard
Leaves Of Gold
The artist leaned in slowly
to his daughter’s sculpted visage,
placed a slender leaf of gold
across her ceramic brow
and gently pressed it with his brush.
But for all his art and craft he knew
no gilder’s foil was half so dear
as the child with half-closed eyes –
with mother’s tender brush
caressing strands of finest gold -
singing her to sleep.
Robin hums as she tends her garden
while birds perch all around
waiting for rustling seeds
to fill the slender columns.
Humming birds hover near
to sip sweet nectar mixed for them alone.
On concert nights her voice takes flight.
and fills the hall with her radiant soul.