Maybe I should burn all of the others and keep this one.
January 17, 2021
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Until We Meet
What if we think of words as bells,
each with a sound that’s just arrived
from a great distance — across fields,
down mountains, over graveyards,
swept along alleys and streets,
and of we who ring them
as angels without
names?
Songs and Letters, September 24, 2008
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces, Songs and Letters
Tags: Angels, Bells, Diaries, Journals, Poems, Poetry, Words
William Michaelian 