...let me see,
the ways i love thee, , ,
to let go, to climb that tree
although i have always been
afraid of heights.
to run, barefoot, splish-splash
at the water's edge, being silly
(a different kind of hill-billy..)
carving your name in the sand,
then cry a silent tear when
the tide's remorseless march,
erased your excistence,
leaving there just a smooth
canvass of sand....
If i could, i would
write your name boldly
in the sky and shout out....
for her, i would die.
you are the firefly
in my heart...
lighting those dark corners
where my soul so often hides.
I drink the words from your lips,
with an eagerness that
is almost desperate...
slaking the parched and arid soul.
But when i look around,
i see those dull, uncomprehending faces,
staring,
their unspoken accusations, like a loose
stone in your shoe, probing, chaffing.
All i want to be,
to be with you.
to be with you, so
i can find me.
Words lie stillborn,
heavy and foul,
when all i wanted to say,
to whisper,
to shout
i love you........................
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Alan, there are moments of delight in this poem...and yet there is excess. I believe poetry should be 'boiled down to a fine crystal.' You need to boil this a bit more...but you do have some lovely images. Dont lose them. Raynette