~

she is woman of softened beauty,
like the sunset’s molten hues;
yet rugged as the rocky crags,
that from afar are mountain’s blue,
and which each night at even’s call,
the sun behind will slowly slide.
she is timid as a doe,
’neath a canopy of green,
feeding by the quiet waters;
yet fierce as timber wolf,
among the limbs and leaves
her young from prey she hides.

within her soul she bears her secrets,
without she is ten thousand verses;
as waters trickle to the stream,
and have no voice until,
they join in gathered current,
to fall in thunderous cascade,
as majestic waterfall.
she is a being... light of spirit,
yet bears on dove white shoulders,
pain endured from cruel world.

in the dark she is a light;
in an age of growing grays,
she robes herself in dazzling white.
to each who calls her friend,
she is to them a heroine;
an angel ’midst the darkness,
she works beside, yet out of sight.
of many thoughts, none spill careless,
from her tongue to cross her lips;
yet all her words are weighty,
a bond of promise, made and kept;
these in secret places dark,
in a foundry, hot with sweat;
her long and dusty journey,
leaves on her soul a branded mark.

loyal friend and steadfast mate,
she brings with her a hope eternal,
yet she alone accepts her fate.
she is peace and love maternal;
within her an oasis rare,
few have found, and fewer see;
for all its hidden beauty lies,
behind her softened hazel eyes,
these she guards, the secret way,
the stair beyond her garden’s gate.

~

*post script.

these words christened in celebration of her life, her birth.  she entered the world in the year Camelot began, and though we would not meet til we were both sixteen, she became Camelot to me; a castle of hidden fragrance and beauty.  of these few words she is all, yet so much more.  she is everything i didn’t know i’d want or ever need; at every turn more than my equal, she is the sum of all my parts.  at a glance some judge her simple, yet she is rogue complexity; a woman who discards little, except barriers to those she loves and who love her in return!
Happy Birthday, Darling!!

~

where clear blue sky meets water's deep
his sunbeams reach her waves to tease,
to warm her currents, foaming spray;
dawn to dusk when daylight fades,
till only afterglow remains,
an interlude of celestial stage.

he speaks to her on written sky
and in the mournful sea-bird's cry,
wraps sultry ribbons in her tresses,
his fingers linger in caresses,
and in soothing choreography
he gently stirs her ocean's breeze.

he sends her gifts of palm and dates,
wrapped on waves in salty sprays;
watches her with much delight,
he sings to her each eventide,
love songs with the calling gull,
and rocks her tween the gusts and lulls.

wedded at horizon’s edge,
devotion to her he has pledged,
to have forever and to hold,
his comfort to her storm-tossed soul;
his tender kiss on tear-stained cheek,
where clear blue sky meets water's deep.

~

post script.

when one gazes
into the vastness
of sea and sky,
of what is from
height to depth
an endless blue,
one cannot but think
of eternal devotion,
of the relationship
between two who have
pledged their forever troth!

as i wonder from what recesses
this one came, i remember…
our 36th wedding anniversary
is fast approaching...
i’ve been thinking of what to gift her
that will make her cry anew.

**thank you to Hello Poetry for
the tremendous honor bestowed
with their designation of this poem as the daily
and to all who have expressed their heartfelt
love and appreciation... your message
came through loud and clear...
there can be no denying it,
i am an incredibly blessed man
because of each of you!  
thank you, truly,
from the bottom of my heart!

~

as pages turn 
his memory greets her... 
the filtered light 
of saddened beauty, 
yet, without would be 
but crushing darkness,
his footsteps welcome, 
an entrance crossing 
lightly o’er the 
threshold of her mind; 
his visits she could 
not bear to miss. 
and though it wets 
her cheeks with weeping, 
though it fills 
her pail of tears
from sorrow’s ever 
deepening abyss,
this, her rose of hope 
its beauty precious
its fragrance borne 
on petals crushed.
each page she turns 
his memory greets her
with each his visit 
she prolongs;
and moments sweet 
she dare not rush;
dispels her darkness
when nights are long.

~


*post script.

he visits on pages that fill her life... 

the photo albums,
the turning calendar, 
books that bear his footnotes... 
cards and letters beginning with the words, “Dear Mom...”

ever so slowly, she is learning to welcome, 
even find comfort, in his visits
among the pages.