Tate Morgan > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

My son thought it an adventure learning how to build on real scale Who could say they don't love the day when their sons light shone in detail

So with a pocket full of dreams I traced the river as it flowed More like a stray finding his way I departed the winding road

Why is it we all tolerate what in real life we would not take The art of being someone’s friend just to use them for our own sake

How is it that the continent from which we all must have come Is only now finding freedom out from under a despots thumb

My duty in this life is clear pass love from the child within me Along with prayers from those that died for all the hopes of things to be

An autumn robbed by winters chill Makes way for loveless cold The winter flakes upon my sill Tell this young man he is old

By taking life what do we gain rendering us all one has owned Do we inherit sorrowed pain for our own failure to have grown

Seek the heart as long you search wrap it tight in Love's embrace be mindful to it's needs and wants keep it clothed in silk and lace

They walked with me most of my life watered my soul to grow loves seed Bore my pains within their own breasts through the times of my deepest need ..

Where your heart becomes a cannon spit iron on the whale Follow him through perdition's flame then live to tell the tale