Messages from My Soul

Let Us Talk

Sit down, let us talk

Not of dancing, 'neath fancy light

Nor boys and girls in waltzing flight

Across a room of hungry eyes;

But let's move our feet to the beat of dreams

Arrange their rage to tranquil streams

And catch a rev'rie as it flies;

Sit down, let us talk

Not of limelit dolls, televised phlegm

Nor of the worms that worship them

On reels of pastel-color'd waste;

But let's them ravel, stew'd in casks

Concocting meanings, daring ask

Things we left out in our haste.

Sit down, let us talk

Not of love that perj'ry brings

Nor of the wounds of broken wings

Or transient scars of fleeting pain;

But of boughs taking wing at the first breath of spring

Of the larks, though battered, still straining to sing,

Hearts that love when love's in vain.