The best of me


a feathered dream will oft return
reaching back into life
times of ancient aging elms
and willows weeping in the rain

thoughts unfold as linen yearns
to know the hand that held its lace
once left waiting at the gate
behind a heaven still remained

beyond the moment fading shades
of flowered sunbeam colors curled
where memories still circle seeking
far from home a world to roam

and always turning daylight still
will rise and set again where love
knows the place forever found
as lost horizons fade from view