All Those Marooned Poem by Doris Cornago

And it goes on and on until the seventh poem. This is what I call poem binging, more addictive than Netflix binge.

My skill is to patch up deadends Separate from the rest, work My best alone, introverted But also focused best With silence, my Mind seeks Solace As Words Distract The quietude Of my meek heart Most corners occupied By past concerns, introspective

In deep esteem enfold you With both open palms Whispering low Entreaties Uphold Covenants Spoken to a race In the Secret Place meet Seeking your kind face, grace Upon grace, reflecting on silence

Happiness is this time Spent on thoughts Weaving into Words Magic filters In with the birdsong Cool breeze wafting gently Not alone, all creation lifts me up Faithfully, keeping time with my heartbeat