If I could only wash my age-soaked heart
The way I do these clothes in this machine
And trust in thirty minutes it’d be clean.
I’d likely try it once or twice to start.
What soap would do the best to tear apart
What’s good from what has grown with time too mean?
I’d make it cleaner than I yet have seen
And wash it everyday - if I were smart.
These quarters are too little I confess.
For payment ancient angels might want more
Since no one gives forgiveness out for free,
But then came dreams of lucid mystery.
They weren't what I thought I was looking for
Yet I felt clean enough to let them bless.
Linked to dVerse Meeting the Bar where Jilly is hosting and the form is the sonnet with enjambment. I hope there are some lines above that represent enjambment.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 