Wednesday, June 17, 2009


The violet cries in perfumed tears
at the nearness of his step,
delighting as she feels its weight
upon her upturned face.
Love's fragrance is a balm
which replaces pain with joy;
it is carried on the wind.
He breathes it in, remembering;
and, looking down, he sees the one
whom he has crushed
glimmering in the dust of dreams.
She seems to smile at him,
her shining eyes meet his.
With eager tenderness, he lifts his prize
and holds her to to his heart,
where she rests like a child.
Enfolded in his arms, she is
safe-- home at last.

1 comment:

  1. Restless and sleepless in the dark of night
    Her love is yearning for her heart's delight
    Though sun may shine brightly or raindrops fall
    The poor violet withers in spite of all.

    Brave though she is, with a soul good and true,
    A lonely heart is not cured by the dew
    One voice alone can relieve her sad plight
    Plucking poor violet from darkness of night.

    Then deep in her heart she hears tender word:
    Patience, my child, and your heart will be cured.
    The workings of Providence may seem slow,
    But all was foreseen and will'd long ago.

    'Twasn't voice longed for of him far away,
    But it brought peace to her heart in a way
    Made resignation and courage revive
    And gave violet strength and will to survive.