John Mark doodle down

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Granite Soul

Chisel your face
On my granite soul
Etch the worry lines
And the crow’s feet
And the dimpled recesses
Of your north face and south
Whiskers like pines
Thick below and scarce above
The furrowed timber line

Sculpted by tears
Snowed by deep sorrows
Windy relentless
Thoughts and heavy sighs
Coalesce our silhouettes
Until their glances catch
A familiar
Calm repose they cannot place
Features faint resemblance strong

Never faces
That give embraces
Reflected traces
Suggested graces
Hands, hands of time effaces
And puts in their places
Warmth and laces
The bitter with sweet paces
Crowns for ending races

Here is a hand
Together we climb
Hugging the terrain
They traversed the trail
Tramped out for and before us
Melting mountainous fears
With radiant warmth
From souls rubbing together
Vigorous without end