Saturday, January 05, 2008

Poem From The Puddle©

Your Love For Me

If you the hills chant and me in them run

To find naught but tree and shadow

Conspiring, and an owl hooting ridicule,

What will touch my face, then?

If the moon alone lightens my retraced

Sorrowing footsteps, and leaves waft

Clues my beaten mind cannot discern,

What will whisper then, in my ear?

When I emerge to remember the old fears

That sent me stumbling into the dark

Snapping twigs and biting wind,

What will give me hope, in that moment?

What will tell me that everything
And the breeze was you, knowing sooner

To make your own way from the far side

And gain the clearing as I went in?

What will tell me this as I twist now,

Bending to pick the burrs from myself?

What will cause me to come into the open

Where you and your smile
Are brighter than the moon ever was?

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008


Beth said...

You captured being lost, love and salvation. (I think.)

cipriano said...

Thank you, Beth.