(I left this in the kudos box before I left town.)
Bread and sweat and heart and stone
Flaking paint cannot conceal
Love that warms me to the bone.
All the tender hearts will groan:
what will this old house reveal?
Bread and sweat and heart and stone.
Sing out in crowd or all alone,
heat the oven, prepare the meal:
love that warms me to the bone.
Pots to wash and knives to hone;
there's nothing here that you could steal-
bread and sweat and heart and stone.
Sure as the flock of crows has flown
I carry it like coals that heal:
bread and sweat and heart and stone,
love that warms me to the bone.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment