Photo by John Palmer Gregg
I have searched for poetry in every corner of the light. I have searched it out in the shadows of evening and in the silver reflections of moonlight. I have orchestrated and waited for its’ arrival Often sitting for hours, by candlelight, Waiting for poetry to grace me with its’ voice. I have sat motionless, in silence, eyes closed And listening, Waiting, Waiting for poetry to arrive. I have taken long walks among tall pines in search of poetry. Oh, I have happened upon it, In the leaves as they rustle in the wind. I have heard the metered voice of rhyme and seen its’ joy in sunlight as it skips across the belly of the lake. I have even heard its’ gentle whispers among the tender purple violets. As the sun has set poetry has revealed itself along the edge of the river, As it curls its’ toes over rocks. I’ve found it there in its’ verse, naked and raw. But I have never found poetry like it has found me. Poetry searched me out like a lion and found me in your eyes. It found me in my thoughts so fast, that poetry’s voice caught in my throat And took my breath, just as you do When your lips tenderly kiss my temple And linger there for a moment. In that moment Time stops. Poetry finds me in pools of blue beneath the shadow of your lashes. It finds me in the beating of your heart When my head rests upon your chest. It stirs me and calls me home. Oh, I have searched and searched for its’ rhyme, but never, Never, Never have I found poetry Like it has found me in your eyes.