Wishing To Be A Skylark Poem by Mark Heathcote

All my painted vice in listening to the dark
left me stumbling, wishing to be a skylark
if angels unbolt a door, you've only spied,
prays, woe betide daisy chains reach the Lord,
and you're not the last link in that tide.

Pray that out of any debris you rise
and find yourselves newly-revitalise
and stand in the light and not just fold,
but find meaning and strength in the Lord,
and love in your heart you just-can't withhold.