Poem 207:

Prayers that flutter along


Noticed only by the creator’s hand,
broken songs, like our prayers,
oft flutter along, seemingly unheard,
steps winding nowhere,
steps that wind without grace.

Without the morning sun,
a heart has no song, notes
playing without a melody,
broken promises and shuttered dreams
scattered upon prayers
that just flutter along.

Forgotten though they may be
a broken prayer will find its melody
in the creator’s warm embrace,
and in the mourning doves coo
find again its place
and yield to sunlit rays.

© 2015 by James Spruell All rights reserved

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