To Seed The Steps Of Heaven Poem by Mark Heathcote

Morning glory must open
to seed the steps of heaven.

And on her nap of cloud.
Might yours be a halo, a crown?
Opening the gates of heaven
and that basket of laundry.
It won't need laundering
in heavens ephemeral care
Apollo the sun,
will have had his run,
with the morning air.

But you must, mine darling
by break of day, nightfall-shining
flit-through a velvet-tare
leap from the shadows of existence
with flowers in your hair.