My Watchmen

My Watchmen

by Tim Reed

four prison guards

standing so tall

changing each minute

delicate muscles bulging

keep silent watch

bring me visitors

take away friends

keys bent, discarded

sentenced for life

my silent wardens

four simple numbers

Weak Wings Wait

Weak Wings Wait

by Tim Reed 

black paper quivering on white wings

frailty awaits mighty imputation

shelter from the circling hunters

dreams cling with white knuckles

inadequacy in stark relief

against pure strength and foundation

just as clear, the clarion's voice

"Steady, Steady, Steady"

"all is mine, and shall be yours"

weak wings wait

weak wings must wait

Matchsticks and Pebbles

Matchsticks and Pebbles 

By Tim Reed

How could I equate you with the glow of the sun?

A matchstick in a vast cathedral?

Or, more humorous still, your voice to the echo of thunder?

Mere pebbles falling on deaf ears?

Even if I look upon millions of stars unknown,

They are meaningless dust particles on a shelf.

Yet...

Here, in the whisper of intimacy,

You are unbound and unfathomable.