Serenading Spirits
Holding our hands to make a spiritual fence,
Wanting to be together
And to make our dreams come true.
Hearing whispering spirits serenading us,
Clenching our fists,
Raising our opened hands,
Flowing our ideas down through our wrists,
Blazing in our bones
The moans of our tongues,
Our ideas forming a whirlwind within itself,
Blending our time and our space,
Those seconds becoming irregular
In the intersection between spaces,
Hearing whispering spirits serenading us.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Added by Poetry Lover
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