the rose and the dew …
soothing dew of the dawn, teases the rose in the mist of new morn,
nourishing the rose, encased in a dewy sheath, drops of soothing dew tease tendrils of each leaf,
soothing flowers, the dew banishes the night, in soft hues of exquisite early light:
you are the dew to my solitary leaf, seducing my soul with loving belief,
and I, I revel in the balm of your solace, shunning the pain of this world, with welcome relief … … …
bidding another year adieu …
and when i see,
breathe her, her softness a whisper away,
she knows the ache, i fear,
of wanting,
needing perhaps,
the feeling of feeling dear,
not much,
soothing warmth,
enveloped,
our warmth, a light autumn shawl,
her fingers, mine,
tracing sketches, scribbles,
our waltzing fingers entwined,
shedding this year that wasn’t, or hardly was at all,
like so, so many yesteryears,
now long passed,
quietly, threading catacombs crumbling into dust,
gently, reverently,
laying it down, leaving it all far, far behind,
a few shared moments,
of gentleness, warmth, solace,
of pure, innocent, delicious, alluring promise of bliss,
so rare,
priceless, almost,
almost,
too rare to find …
Scribbled Verse 