...And in his absence;
quiet deepened,
my branches became fruitless,
winds cooled.

I sought warmth by the hearth,
my thoughts drifting to him seeking
out a solace in his disjointed
premature solitude of life.
His time of melancholy too deep
in which to be buried;
he stirs, avidly reaches for
another hill,
a valley where lilies bloom,
hill slope an orchard,
pleasant birds picnicking, tasting
a fig, plum, an apricot.

Oh how I'd love to be there too,
his words sweet balm, and lap in
which to rest, listening to his ripened
fruit in which I am content.
My branches again sprouting.
The wash of his presence flowing
over me like a soft feather eiderdown.

From a distance watching
on, sharing in written word, do
I taste of him in which each delectable
morsel is a delicacy relished.
An intoxicating grape.

My heart warms in gladness on
seeing how he mends the pain of
fractured generator and how he
runs smoother in renewed re-generation.

I almost envy those pretty birds, now
picnicking in his orchard, sharing his
smile, beauty of mind and heart.
He is valued in my life, my friend
of whom, without, I am incomplete.

6/2001

10/01/2001

Posted on 10/01/2001
Copyright © 2025 Audrey M Scott