I don't know a bigger prize
Awaits behind the scenes
As I clutch and hold fast to
Blessings you've 'fore bestowed
But you have asked
That I let go and trod holiest trails
The hour seem near
I will not fight
Walk with me down this road

From His Lips

I roar, whilst in David’s clothing
An Amazon, though oh-so-small
Ought, by the world’s measure, back down
But no
I take aim
You play the unwinable game
The ground, you roam
The fall, your home
The dirt your resting place 


Ponytail Summers

Before your very eyes

Quickly became the whirlwind of Fall’s shame

Whence soon it was apparent 

You’d walked into Winter’s doors where no one cared

In the busyness 

Of preparing for a most dry Spring indeed 


I would

I’d jump into yours


Despite the syncope

No matter the string-along

I will

I’ll fall into you


My drummer boy

My guitar man