A Feeling Or Perhaps Its Bliss – A Song

My home is where my home is With something inside its clear A feeling or perhaps its bliss Of something wonderfully dear A glass within a glassy wall Through nobody's but my own eyes Each day short-rained in its call With collected faces in disguise The midair temper of each tide That's flowing ongoing to please Each shadow dancing in its stride With anything one there sees Like something of a dimension's own Imaginations like the bluish moon The many faces that aren't shown Though you will notice them soon My home is where my heart is With all its compartments stores Each way that let up blindingly this To make the senses to yours Attachments that might please a fancy Or bring them to their own falls Future entered and exorcised in dancy Whenever to opportunities it calls (I am a poem said the poet, and the world is also poetry. All the best, From Peter S. Quinn – who uses rhymes to make music http: //www.poemhunter.com/peter-s-quinn/poems/page-100/ http: //stores.sibeliusmusic.com/sheetmusicpublishing http: //members.sibeliusmusic.com/Peter Google 'Peter S. Quinn' “Let the new wave come and rise to billow” …and thanks to everybody who found the time to write some comments, I’ll be back soon)