Book Of Hours

I have my...body of work...the poetry the prose...I have molted...very well...feather's folded...pop up angel...in a book...that disappears reappears...in one instant...all my life...my love sincere...chalk drawn soul...could be washed...away with tears...yet still be...no matter that...the world care...or not care...

I will still be...there beside you...loving you...whether not...or if you know...a billion lives...it took to...make you as...you are...do not think...lightly of yourself...therefore...thou kindly limned...of verb of vowel...of word and thought...I made you...and will love...you every bit...

You are there...your grace...your  sweet and...gentle face indelible...caressed and sweetly...noted in my...book of hours...to find thyself...this quest thou...may not choose...or may'st...to the end...of which...unraveled from...thy wrapping stand...as naked as...a child before...me think'st thou...and thou appear...

All copyrights and...time stamped notary's...are jests...the which in...all I find to...be so very funny...
for what dost...thou horde so...jealously thy word...thy love...my word my...love are free...nor have I...box or bag...with which...to capture thee...nay only that...that sweet love...you will know...the day...you come to me...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: River Landscape With Rustic Lovers, by presently unknown artist