Poetry of Heart
The garden of my heart yearns for sunshine, rain,
And is discontent with the clouds that find it.
Daffodils hang their heads achingly low
In despair of the passing day
As the gloominess of the clouds
Cast shadows over their bright reflections.
They sit silently closed
No reason of joy entreats them to bloom
With the warmth of your presence gone,
Leaving only the hollowness of vacancy.
And the sweet wisteria merely leans weeping
Against the walls that surround,
Desolate they cannot feel you near,
Only the cold stones comfort their misty mind.
Sweet songs the birds sing, but melancholy.
Their tune matching rhythm with my heart,
Beating deeply, slowly at such sorrow,
It fills throughout the depth of every corner there.
Somewhere upon the narrow garden path,
Your footsteps make memories within my mind,
And the winding trails you pass so agilely along
Fill with a warm, soft amber glow.
Occasionally I feel you sit upon the edges of the fountain,
Tracing your fingers across the surface, once calm,
And ripples cover all the spaces within my soul
As to nearly splash over the edge when returning.
How my soul and heart feel you,
As this garden is both alive and not.
But always near to escaping the enclosing walls,
The walls that disintegrate with your warmth.
The garden where your presence is the sunshine
That glows so brightly I cannot see.
The garden where your touch is the rain
That drowns me so I cannot think,
And the garden where your heart is the final ripple
That so causes my own heart to overflow.
My Poems
