The Poet’s Ponder

The Poet's Ponder

The Poet’s Ponder

The Poet’s Ponder
What if there was no silence of the night
Nor the quiet of the poet’s ponder?
For without the existence of either of these
There would be no rhyme of love or life…
There would be no words that speak
Of the softness of the moonlight
Upon one’s face…
Perhaps there would be
No reasoning for writing of love at all…
But then, I have seen the beauty
Of your face in the light of dawn
Giving cause to doubt my own prophetic words…
As we share lunch at the small café
Beneath the sidewalk, the shine in your hair
Reflecting the light of day into my gazing eyes…
Again brings doubt upon the need for the
Silence of the night or the quiet of the poet’s ponder…
The love we have made in the afternoon,
In the setting sun, by the garden of Plumeria
Surrounding us with their beauty of vision…
The aroma of their perfume
Also casting doubt upon my words…
But then, I have seen the beauty
Of your face in the moonlight…
Visions that will forever linger
Within my remembrance…
I have felt the passion within me
Soar into other worlds of reality
As the softness of its luminescence
Filtered through the curtain lace
Of our bedroom window…
Casts its countenance upon your
Naked body…
Your vision in the moonlight has
Been cause to pen the poetry of passion…
The rhymes of enraptured love…
The touch of your heart against mine…
Yet… the glow of your skin
In the light of dawn
Is what inspires my soul
Into visions of exquisiteness…
Releasing words from worlds
Beyond that of my own…
How silent is it within the ponder
Of the poet?…
How still is the silence of the night…
Without the vision of you…
In the light of day?

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