Watching

Once again, words that wrote themselves.

Watching closely ever more

   blurring lines the painter's score.

Detailed though the strokes may seem,

   deeper meaning's in the seam.

Stitches in a coat, though small,

   hold the wind back in the thrall.

Baron lands of rich and old

   bare foundations young and mold.

Rich in honey, abounding milk

   flood my hear without the guilt.

Rock of mountains above the trees

   expose the saddles chasing bees.

Deep embedded, seeded truth -

   keep me from the death of youth.

Running from deceit's decay,

   be the safe on which I lay.

Mold me, sculpt me from the clay

   that will keep your standing Name.

Quickly comes the taste of death;

   much more sound the victor's threat.