Dewdropp on My Palm
One morning I opened my eyes and blinked them clear
From that very moment I felt your presence near.
I opened the door and went out in my garden
The soaked grass was as silky as words flowing out of a pen.
I gingerly touched my only cherry tree
And a dewdrop, like a blessing, fell on me.
As soothing as a hug and reviving as a kiss
As beautiful as early morning mist.
Like a newborn it was pure and innocent
In its one nights lifetime it had nothing to repent.
I was afraid to love it, cherish it
Afraid that in doing so, I might unknowingly hurt it.
In a few minutes my dewdropp was about to cease to exist,
As the sun would be up to let life set on its routine drift.
I could never let my dewdropp leave me and end as nothing
Even if nothing for all, for me it would be a little something.
The one way to keep it with me forever,
Was to make it my blood and forget it never.
I hold up a silver knife and make a little slit on my wrist,
Stopped the bleeding and deepened it
I pushed it slowly into my blood stream,
My heartbeat raced as fast as a light beam.
Soon my love, my dewdropp reached my heart
From there it spread into each and every part.
From my heart it also journeyed into my soul,
I had been sorely incomplete and it filled my hidden gaping hole.
The hollow days have passed
Sleepless nights now are a thing of the past.
Now my love, my dewdropp will forever be with me,
Our souls are now intertwined and it is now my identity.
Isabella Francis's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Dewdropp on My Palm by Isabella Francis )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Algernon Charles Swinburne
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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