You came to speak in tones of nurturing lips,
through plains, you spoke in tomes beyond the crosses.
I came to hear and drink the arduous sips,
of grief inlaid with stone and greener mosses.
The down of wings and guardian angel tips,
enlaced with knots of salt and sudden losses,
could rock the boat, and save the sinking ships
with sleight of hand, with cotton woven flosses.

You came to calm, and quell the youth disease
and heal the mind or soul of its unease
with songs of mums and crispy autumn leaves,
with pearly gates and wispy withered trees.