Best Poem of H.E Warfield

The Stoic
What does your heart digest in your most private hour?
What does your mind disgorge in your most contemplative moments?

Do you resist the torment it comes, and lick the honey from your lips?
Or do you let it exude, like sweet sap from an old oak tree,
Tattered and torn by the names calved in you over the years . . .
Read the full of The Stoic
Every Time
Every time you walk in the rain, I can feel the drops on my skin.

Every time you gaze at the stars, I dream specks of light.

Every time you grow weary of the highway, I stop and rest my eyes.

Every time the early morning frosts your skin, I wake in a shiver.

Every time you’re high above the c . . .
Read the full of Every Time