You bow in silence with a humble grace Affording us this service you repeat: To drive away the darkness with your face While springtime flowers kiss your toeless feet.
Take root In constant love That like a forest grows All while the raging storm above It blows. A thing, Familiar now, But only so because I distinctly remember how It was. There are Stupid questions, And stupid people who Declare they don’t exist; you know They do.
These hairy hunchbacks huddle to keep Warm all together as one; The mantle they share in perpetual sleep Is forged from a drop of the sun; The huddle is broken with one of them woken, And thusly their end is begun.
Picture courtesy my niece Zahraa. Thanks JM for what inspired the verse. O wintery night, how cold is your touch,My branches remember their leaves,I miss their green laughter, I miss it so muchTill all of me shivers and grieves. O wintery night, your stars lend to meThat with them my branches may playThe song of sweet silence, how it will beThe silentest rustle I say.
Do not, oh please don’t turn your back on me, And trust me with your limbs for just another Wee step, descend before you heed my plea: No rungs, just up the one and down the other; How pure the air of morning time can be. You cannot forbid my arrival, And though you may make me depart, Returning am I when clouds gather high Eclipsing the sun from your heart; Or when you are lost in a tempest Of heedless and dizzying mirth, I come to remind you as subtly I blind you To time in its glorious worth.
Although I resent this intruder I host him without a complaint And host him despite my complaint, Lest he may assume me the cruder, I deck him in apparel quaint Of silky bright robes, many layers, And let him remain here with me; It grieves me, though, when one declares Him grander than I’ll ever be. Updated, thanks to some healthy critiquing :-).