When pigs fly
I will warm again,
and words of love
will form as dew drops
on my evening heart.
When pigs fly
I will see again,
and looks of love
will bloom like kisses
on my trembling heart.
When pigs fly
I will speak again,
and thoughts of love
will sound as angels
from my singing heart.
When pigs fly
I will give again,
and lakes of love
will gush like wellsprings
from my fountain heart.
When pigs fly
I will trust again,
and vaults of love
will fall like tumblers
from my unbound heart.
Poetry Croft 