The Writer's Friend

Blogs or Posts, My Poems

There is a moment

When sunlight bathes the trees

And your thoughts

My dear, dear friend

Invade me.

You seem to love the morning

When our room is cool

And paper, pen and attitude

Anchor an old fool

Bowing to  your witness

Reaching out for lines

Winding towards your inner life

And sketching it in rhymes.

So soft your silent whispers

But clear and hardly grave

Patiently you  elevate

These aging earthbound ways.

Why such generosity

Beloved friend of messy me?

Perhaps. . .

When time is near an end

And meeting on a star

You will share your name

Back here and how

I knew you then.

Until that  day when music plays

Around and through our souls

We  grasp the air and strain

To hear the cadence of your stroll.

We hope to be so still

And clearly know your voice!

But busy we remain

Both supplicant and prey

Chasing our discordant days

As sunlight bathes the morning trees

With songs of immortality.

I pray someday we walk  afar

Singing to this morning star

Reuniting earth with heaven

Brothers in this  house forever.

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