he passes by like rose petals
falling across the dead grasses
of my soul.
they begin to green at his
tender touch and grow as though
the summer winds have been here.
his warm sun rays melt away
the worried icicles which hang
over my pale forehead.
the blues which were creeping
around in the shadows of my thoughts
have disappeared because of his
shining self.
although many times he is a silent
passerby, his small words
are large in compare to the words
of the small minded tenants to
the seeds of insecurity that sprout
in my own mind.
he resides behind the tops of book covers
and in the words of great poets.
and as I walk across the floor like
a blossom in the late February wind,
he slips beneath the cracks of
my heart and nestled himself into hiding.
he is not for the world to see,
but rather for my own eyes and for my own
battered and broken down heart to
hold forever.
written on: february 28th, 2020
