16. Whatever Mould
If my limbs have withered,
Heal me, that I may come to thee,
Walking or crawling.
And If my heart is stone cold,
Burn me, that I may melt into
Whatever mould that thou may hold.
This is what I call an uncommented poem. So I better stop now before my non-comment amounts to a comment of sorts.
Have a beautiful day, sunshine - and may each of us find our Layla.