To My Little Pommygirl Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I think about you,
now and then,
and then
again.

I do not tell
this
cloak and dagger game
to anyone,
not even
to myself.

I wonder
what you may,
or may not be
into,
today
or any day
that God allows
the sun to shine
onto your
fragrant curls.

Some days
I wake,
unsure about
the source
of that electric spark,
the worrywort that
I am not
and I could never be,
that tiny stab
inside my heart,
I put it down
as just
a random bubble
of pure oxygen
and nothing more
sinister,
NO.
I will not tell
about this,
cloak and dagger game,
to anyone,
not even to myself.

The day will come
when secrets fade
into thin air,
accompanied by one,
a precious but spent soul,
drained now,
and to the end of time,
of God's own energy.

He knows,
my fervent wish
is to bequeath
all of its might
to you,
to you alone,
so you may live,
another day
perhaps until the birds
and butterflies
ride peacefully
through mangrove swamps
and stillness rules.

But do not worry.
I will never tell.
Not even tell myself.