ENSLAVED

Oh, the beauties of earth enslave me
I have searched so often in vain . ..
for the first wild woodland blossoms . . .
awakened by April's warm rain.

I have stood for hours enraptured
by the sights and sounds of spring . . .
I am a slave to the wild, sweet music . . .
of song birds on the wing.

Only last night I stood spellbound
at the evening sky's display . . .
where the red-bordered sun was sinking . . .
as it bid farwell to the day.

And its beauty ensnared my senses . . .
and a vision came to me then . . .
of a stairway leading to heaven's gate . . .
that could be traveled by children, women and men.

But the flaming sky drew its mantle of dusk
to hide the glory from view . . .
And the night grew dark , yet the spell remained . . .
until I felt the first kiss of the morning dew!