“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Friday, March 29, 2019
Thine
Certain she was an angel
so no questions were asked
in exchange for quiet
observations
like rites
And I do not believe
in these divine beings
anyway
Her presence
provided a feeling
to pray this reason away
For proof is sought
inside realms invisible
for them to see
Gratefully, I step out
of this shell,
noticing the sleeping orchids swell
while the red breasted finch
thinks of a new song
the angel noticing Him
may know.
Painting by Marcantonio Franceschini from the Dulwich Picture Gallery [Public domain].
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