Saturday, January 05, 2008

Your Love For Me

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 darksnapping 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

that you might 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

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