Like nutmeg in plum cake or in a coffee blend,
Like water to a wilted sapling,
Lack, not leap of faith, is worse, my friend.
Is it magic, tell me, that missing “something”?
Under the harsh light of worldly prudence,
Like water to a wilted sapling.
I call conviction what you call impudence,
Like rest to a weary, defeated mind
Under the harsh light of worldly prudence.
What our heart knows our eyes do find,
Faith in things small and benign,
Like rest to a weary, defeated mind.
Fragments, we fit in a larger design,
We like it the least when we need it the most,
Faith in things small and benign.
For a man pedalling toward the seacoast,
Like nutmeg in plum cake or in a coffee blend,
We like it the least is when need it the most,
For lack, not leap of faith, is worse, my friend.
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What a lovely poem! Your words just flowed rhythmically. “We like it the least when we need it the most,
Faith in things small and benign.” beautiful thought!
Loved the way you chose all the words…the poem flowed like water – continuous and beautiful…Please write more poems – I have become a fan!!