January runs into to February with such ease
With the seed of September in every new moon
And December a dream all too much a reality
For what it’s worth, somewhere it’s always June
And it leaves too soon on its way to January

Love was once a simple way to walk alone
Living in what appears to be a one act play
A satirical comedy with one actor on one stage
All the world a prop made by the hands of time
That heals all wounds except the loss of love

Only love can heal the rip in a tortured heart
But on your own there is nothing to pollinate
Like the stories of the birds and bees told too late
Without you there is no hope of a new year
December ends the story of what could be me

If life’s dream is withheld or taken away
There is no choice to live or die another day
Absolution cannot release a life not lived
Nor will an idea release the heart’s free flow
In the mind of one who does without a dream

Faith is hope in the things we do not see
Proof of the thing that remains unproven
The name that stands heads above the rest
If we can only believe what remains unknowable
If we can only just run the race walking on grace

© 2017 Tim D. Coulter Sr.