One Last Morning Like This

Last Morning

I sit here on your empty steps awaiting your awakening
keeping company to
the morning sun lighting your roses
the dew drifting in air currents
over your garden
you may awaken soon I hope
won’t you  let me in

The daisies at your steps soak in the
drifting dew as if too
to remind me of my needs for your touch
I feel that same desire
may you awaken soon
won’t you  let me in

I know well the silence of  summer  mornings
the need for the roses and
the dew on the daisies
the swirling of your dancing skirts
we all need you by our side
in one sweet picture of harmony
won’t you let me in

And then in the soft rays of morning sun I look above
and see your window raise as if to catch
the warm rays of new light
the dew on the roses
the daises drinking in the dawn
your giggle echo’s off  the window panes
won’t you let me in

Yet  there is a new voice in the still morning air
as his arms encircle you
from behind as his voice takes my place
I look above the door and see into your eyes
and you see into mine
And my brother’s voice  speaks,
Come back to bed on one last morning like this

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EdF

Sometime in my life, I started to write about my life journey, in poetry, in story perhaps to sort them out and enter them into a place of safekeeping. The soul of the writer is perhaps best described in their words, emotions and thoughts. If these poems or stories touch something inside you then maybe I have succeeded in sharing. I will not write about my self in profile, because self isn't so important in writing. Only the journey in words and the sharing are important. Why would we say "Now about me!"... I'd rather write about life, nature, serenity ...

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