Danpicby Daniel Jones06 Nov 2013

In lieu of tongues
that speak only dead flowers
who sing a scale of grey.

In lieu of hearts
that beat a punctual whimper
who shirk the touch of weight.

In lieu of eyes
that soak as rocks in thunder
and as pebbles painted gold

In lieu of souls
that find no time to shiver
or seek no fire in the cold

Stitch us all
with threads of colour
to this mighty tapestry of old

that yells our story
alive with wonder
and strings our birth into our fall.