What We Wish

In the garden
the ancient shapes of
things abide as sister
objects, are true too,
the cherub’s smile
persists as both the
essence of an angel’s
happiness and the shape of
early introspection, and the
love between two
meeting shadows paints the
dead elm violet,
and cerulean blue,
makes its
green leaves shimmer in
spring’s last and
ceaseless breeze,
and we walk, leaving
evidence of the soul behind,
what we wish, what
would come true.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio


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