Less a radiance herself than a glinting pane of glass,
She is silvery on winter days and golden in the sun.
So slim she nears translucence, could be thoughtlessly
walked past,
But a density of substance makes each eye’s glance feel a
tonne.
Her voice could hold a sparrow and her brilliance and my
pain,
In an easy gentle offering that enfolds me like sheer lace.
She moves wondrous under snowfall and waits humbly for rain
Acts as shelter for us wanderers who have strayed to her
embrace.
Through our briefest over-lappings I can feel down through
her layers.
We share roots in cryptic corners, draw our sustenance
from soil.
In a language of sheer closeness we could speak all past
betrayals
And each in one another find our perfect mirror-made foil.
But somehow, when I’m with her, my fears go unmultiplied.
It’s my strength and perseverance that, instead, I always
find.
No comments:
Post a Comment