[Baut Image: Flying to Avalon]Can you hear me calling
Through the fogbound memories
Of Childhood;
And hiding by the carousel lights
As Christmas carols are chanted
Through cold December nights?
Can you hear me singing
On pastel mornings
In April;
While I fly my kite
Against the breeze, as you,
Sit drinking Jasmine tea?
Can you hear me running
Past the faceted mirrors
Of memory;
Casting smiles at the glistening
September sun, as you pack
A picnic lunch of forgotten dreams?
Can you hear me speaking
Of winds;
As laughter swells within
Your breast, and passes upward
Through your halo hair,
Casting reflected glints to the stars?
Can you hear the crackle
Of frostfire;
Growing on the indigo horizon,
As shifting spectrums
Glisten upon your dew dropped skin,
And bringing us together on eternities edge?
Can you hear the spheres
Of music;
Playing together in hues
Of unknown colours,
Becoming One with all that is,
And forever shall be?
Can you hear me calling?
Roger Allen Baut
