Of Norway- Poem by Donnie Wolff

So often written
Our poems
so softly spoken.
Perhaps,
Of our dreams,
Our memories.
Some,
so softly broken.
In love.
In It's harmony.
Even of its loss.
So poetically it's gain.
However
I write of one.
A name
Who's name,
I fear to say
I fear to write.
She is of complexity,
Matched only by my own.
Her love, still alive
Even as my own?
I know.
Always knew.
Knew as I wrote of you,
Yet had not known you.
Nor your name.
Momentarily I speak directly to you.
I know you will read.
In time remember.
The truest form of me,
And the most beautiful part of you.
For now back to her,
And the use of she.
Of depth of feeling
Spoken of moment,
In breath of poetry
Of relived dream,
And reality.
Dream..
Yet dream I do of her.
Die..
Yet die do with her.
Pray..
Yet pray I as one with her.
Hurt..
Yet hurt I have her.
Hurt..
Yet hurt I have of her.
Though I do not know
where she may be.
In her eyes,
I know she sees
By her and who she is,
This poem written
So certainly she feels.
Of literary and literally.
There never was.
Only just was,
And always has been.
So evenly so.
And so evenly so,
you fear me.
So evenly so,
you feel me.
As always was,
As we both are.
And her precious
Your precious name,
Is..


Toni