Yup, it's true, it really is. I am here! *Guilty smile*
Please don't drop dead with shock/ surprise/ disbelief/ excitement. I don't want to cart your limp selves around .
Soooooooo, I know I've been a slacker. Got enough reprimands for that. Sorry, but was busy. (Ha!)
Note: For all you original thinkers, this post is not going to be a reprieve! No siree!
I was reading a book when I stumbled over this beautiful piece of poetry. (Again, for all those who know what I think of poems, please don't drop dead with shock/ surprise/ disbelief/ excitement. I don't want to cart your limp selves around.)
So yeah, I'm just going to reproduce something I found, but I HAD to put it up. I dunno how you'll like it, or even if you will, but it really moved me ... almost made me fly.
Dear S,
You are an explosion of carnations
in a dark room.
Or the unexpected scent of pine,
miles from the hills.
You are a full moon
that gives midnight it's meaning.
And the explanation of water
for all living things.
You are a compass
a sapphire
a bookmark.
A rare coin
a smooth stone
a blue marble.
You are an old lore
a small shell
a saved silver bit.
You are a fine quartz
a feathered quill,
a fob from a favourite watch.
You are a valentine
tattered and loved and re-read a hundred times.
You are a medal in the drawer
of a once sung hero.
You are honey
and cinnamon
and Indian spices,
lost from the boat
that was once Marco Polo's.
You are a pressed rose,
a diamond ring
and a red perfume bottle found near the Nile.
You are an old soul from an ancient place,
a thousand years, and centuries and
milleniums ago.
And you have travelled all this way
just so I could love you.
I do.
Love, M
