Wayfaring through a weathered wood,
a poet wondered if he could
permit his pen to kiss the pages
with pain, he had held in for ages.
Then sudden as a flash of light
the thunder clapped with all its might,
and from a world beyond believing:
a goddess girl, before him, breathing!
She whispered with her honeyed breath:
“I know we were divorced by death,
“my love, but write! A poet must do.
Let lines flow free, from me, inside you.
Heartbreak and sorrow we have shared.
Your heart with mine, my love, is paired.
And rhyming is my way of living;
for you, it’s healing and forgiving.”
So, in that weathered, western wood
the pining poet understood.
This goddess girl and ghost of grieving
was sent to soothe his sorrow seething.