Chimneys

If love could flow from chimney pots,
Or fall from clouds like rain,
Then it would fall upon those tears and take away the pain.

The embers kiss that worried cheek,
No tear will go where love has been.
Sweet fiery fumes will fill the sky,
No last words, no pained goodbye.

If hope could lay in sweetest hand,
Or be drawn like perfect art,
Then it would lie inside that palm and sink into that hopeful heart.

The wind will blow that delicate flower,
From within that delicate hand.
Sweet petals of hope will fill the sky,
And upon fresh lips will land.