The Breath Of Innocents Poem by Mark Heathcote

He likes the music of your voice
destiny packed, a convolvulus vine
circling the moon and stars
He likes the music in your heart
a Morning glory star, oh, what alms,
what grace could He suppress from you to me?
Ah, He even likes those annoying cuckooing parts-
what could God do to hide anything captivating from you?
Ah, I like He likes your instrument that-just-is
that is about all that there is,
ah, at its simplest best, He is just like you.
Like the conch shell, He hears the sea in you.
He hears the sound, the breaths of your innocents. Like I do.