I…


This is the second in the series of poems that I’m posting.  This is an immediate sequel to the previous poem (though I don’t exactly remember which I wrote first, since I did so at about the same time).  The same notes apply.

I…”

 I looked at summer sunbeam hair

And river glisten eyes,

Skin like fine potter’s clay

And a smile of hewn red marble,

In my mind I saw her face

Was it laughing or was it smiling?

Did I see her as I aught to

Or did I not give joy due credit?

Hearing her voice sting chimingly in my ears…

Or was it melodious?

Had I masked with self-doubt and self-pity

The truth shining bright

And despised the refiner’s fire,

And instead of yielding up my impurities,

Become hard as stone?

But in my ears was the laughter sweet

And the palate unduly bitter;

I could have better listened

Before declaring my clay fully hardened,

And before turning from her ringing

I should have cleared from my ears some rubble

And then could I have heard her say,

“I…”

What was she beckoning?

Her eyes were fastened like raindrops

On a tempered glass covering

On a burning summer’s day,

Longing to enter the parched earth beneath.

But my face was barren

Like a stony jagged mountain

Where not a drop had fallen

And the earth’s heart could not hear her say,

“I…”

But she poured rain down on the hot glass awning

And broke it clear through,

And her tears did fall from its river in heaven

And gushed through the cracks clear to the foundation

And my rubble was melted and my heart became clay

And to my astonishment,

I heard her say,

“I love you.”

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