Freedom in Fences

a mystery this man with freckled hands the boy a knight with a wooden spoon held to that hill a mountain of will the lion loud sheep in a quiet room slow turning tide a foundation of pride the sea roars but it never moves so slams his heart each kid does his part the man screams yet refuses to choose religion creeps in now seeped into skin the child cries as he tries to hear slow echoed drum no reflection of sun the shadow drowned with each cup full of fear a mystery this man with freckled hands the heart that could swallow you whole  a pleasing son a chosen one the angel who now knows his role .................... matt francis

heres to the man with freckled hands and laughter like a song heres to the house of the rising sun turned out that I was wrong that face and stride so full of pride that voice and huge embrace has all but gone yet lingers on in the features of my face i thought that I could do this i thought that out of grace  i thought and thought  yet life is not with out an empty space there's a vacuum in that dial tone a number with a name to hear him on the other end would settle all my shame i miss you dad more than I can bear though time keeps slipping through these echoed halls and vibrant walls  are hollow without you so heres to the man with freckled hands and a legacy of love may your life with all it's strife bring glory to God above heres to the one that I called dad while walking in this skin heres to that heart of gold and life so bold my dreamer and my friend ....... matt francis

Photo Copyright @2013 Matt Francis broken circle tables turning scripts are burning in this graveyard  of the mind children dancing men romancing secret place we've  longed to find time is labor loves our savior these golden days  consumed by night how pale the stranger now shines the manger and all our fears fade into light ....... matt francis

Shattered Glass this is the sound a window makes shattered by such loss this is the friend as life begins in the shadow of a cross now to the mind  a simple time when hope was flesh and bone this heart the art of kiss and chat and dreams of happy homes where candy land and lifted hands holding to the dice pick a card this boulevard not knowing was so nice now knowledge rules as boubles burst and scratching claws  take skin my thoughts absurd flown throgh his word I now begin again ........... matt francis