At peace with life’s past imperfections We had to come together To effortlessly connect On our second attempt At life’s long conversation
Amongst a deafening crowd Or my last intimate audience I have always seen your shadow In my mind’s starlit garden path
I can trust my senses and instincts And it is plain to see That the butterfly in the lighthouse Is only there for me Returning to the sun’s warm glow
I have never been known to love like this As patient in silence As enthused in aimless conversation I can still close my eyes To recall and enjoy the moment When I moved towards you without thought Meticulous in my memory of the feeling
If my cold hand is always cooling And my warm hand always comforting Never may I be rejected Always may I be welcome In the closest chamber of your heart
I’m beginning to write again Thoughts to fingers An effortless transition On our second attempt At life’s long conversation
This one is beautifully written, I love the full circle it makes from beginning to end, if that makes sense, it just ties itself up so perfectly. Also I like the life's long conversation because really that is what any long term commitment is.
some very good imagery and you must be given credit for the great manipulation of language, though i must ask did you miss a "d" in welcome in this line: "Always may i be welcome" or is it purposely like that? threw me off a bit.
You certainly seem to enjoy quite well the use of nature in your very photographic poetry. It's beautiful and leaves a sighing tired bit inside of my heart to live with. I love this one, it brings my heart up to a count that I haven't felt in such a long long time.
I love the last bit, "I'm beginning to write again" how many times have I been so broken I thought I could never write again, and then it happens..
A sure story in weaving words, love re-discovered here and there. I truly appreciate: ' When I moved towards you without thought ~ Meticulous in my memory of the feeling ..' This could so easily refer to life itself, or who.. or what .. whichever it has such a wistful touch.