Boots of Life
They look different but act the same,
Highlands of old to streets of gold,
African sunset, red mists of pain,
Fear fills the horizon,
Tears they cleanse the soul,
Begging doesn't fill the bowl,
Still we hold on to love.
The time has come,
They will no longer beat the drum,
It is too late for them to run,
Naked they stand as we beat the drum,
They hung you up,
Left you with nothing,
I was gone,
You were strong, but not for long,
They told you the truth, too late,
You carry the scars in your heart,
Emotion lays waste to love,
My heart cries for the Dove,
Tears they cleanse the soul,
Begging doesn't fill the bowl,
Still we hold on to love.
April 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
Added by Poetry Lover
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