KARUNANTA RANGA
I listen for the caramel sound
of your sweet voice
sitting on
a weathered old bench
at Vista 3 in Erna Nixon park
the wind sighs where
so many have waited
I listen for the still small voice
a mosquito whines in my ear
and the lanky shadows of
late afternoon backpacking
through the swampy wetlands
listen too….
flowers bloom, long trumpets
from our ears
I catch a glimpse of the One
with lotus petaled lips and orange
robes
disappearing just beyond the
vermilion horizon
I run to catch up with You
O elusive One
always one step ahead of me
listen to the pitter patter of
my heart
of your sweet voice
sitting on
a weathered old bench
at Vista 3 in Erna Nixon park
the wind sighs where
so many have waited
I listen for the still small voice
a mosquito whines in my ear
and the lanky shadows of
late afternoon backpacking
through the swampy wetlands
listen too….
flowers bloom, long trumpets
from our ears
I catch a glimpse of the One
with lotus petaled lips and orange
robes
disappearing just beyond the
vermilion horizon
I run to catch up with You
O elusive One
always one step ahead of me
listen to the pitter patter of
my heart
