Mosaic

Member since 2002 · Posted 2 Aug 2007 · 1 comment

A mosaic blossom fell like his father on to my Father carried by his sons. Holy holy water mixes in to candle faces, I am alive. Carrying my life yet carried by my children I made it to Psalm thirty four. An apple blossom fell like my arms around my newborn daughter, on to my Father, flesh of wood to dust and granite. In life he worked lathes, in death â emotion.

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[9] Dovina 4-Aug-07/10:12 AM Reply

Do you really need two "holy"'s? The first verse is a riddle - 4 generations I think. The last two lines are great.

Thanks for making me read Psalm 34 again.