METHOUGHT

 

If I had believed the flirtatious whispers,

 the deceitful speeches,

 the heap of begging compliments flirting with all

 - Now would not prison and helpless

 indifference be Solitude,

 I could rejoice in the tiled happiness of others!

 

The tearful grief-balls

 of my eyes Would not be hurt

 by the knife-sting of brightly offensive days,

 And the planetary continence

 of hearts in the home mood 

Would repent, find home, 

and perhaps despairing uncertainty

 of existence Would not rightly

 be so much as to ask if

 Tomorrow will yet be worthwhile? 

I would sit with the celebrated

 childhood youth and read with

 diligence the apocrypha

 of my ant-letters into their gawking,

 exploring glances!

 And, bewitching my deer-eyes,

 would greet me with smiles

 of starry-eyed fairy-will,

 and all-giving,

 mischievous angel-face, 

and my broken soul would not be

 a pessimist infected with insecurity,

 and my agoraphobia could be finally

 trampled down if I knew and felt that

 He is always by my side,

 and takes me in His swan hands

 of protection,

 even with my mother's soft, dewy hands! 

And in the crimson shade of stunning sunsets,

 Together, two by two,

 with hands welded together,

 We would wait obediently,

 and not impatiently,

 For nature's unison order: 

slowly, more slowly, the Cyclops-ball

 closes its giant big eye,

 And I would have time to lay 

down fruitful lines about this and that: 

How was my broken, self-pitying life?

 I would bear eternal

 counseling witness-but only as 

a wise herald with humility, quietly,

 and only gaze with ever-searching,

 curious, mellifluous eyes,

 Even in the crevices of wrinkles,

 years' scratches may have been

 overcome by immortal conviction,

 That we were for each

 other unceasingly, believing in happiness!