A New Beginning

aDarkerMind



be still my Tawny Frogmouth,

you have marched too long through midnight,

gout-ridden as my half-sleep eyes

throw snowballs wet as wizards' tongue

beneath the moon as crickets come

with gifts of fairy-tales and lullabies;

our newborn lamb of spring-time sings

of love and hope that now begins

this brand new day where angels' wings

warm heart and soul all living things

and comfort all who cry;

let winter ring her solstice bells

with summers hearts' of bluebell, rose and daffodil

with tendril hands more reaching than the stars that guide our ways;

our Christabel now sleeps her love

this troubled world shall rise above.

with new beginning comes

a path to better days;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  • Author: Melvin James (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 17th, 2021 06:57
  • Comment from author about the poem: inspired by you. time now to go home;
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 41
  • User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
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Comments2

  • The BlackShakespeare

    Nice write

    • aDarkerMind

      thank you for reading and taking the time to comment;
      most kind.

    • L. B. Mek

      when I was far too young, to remember age numbers,
      there was a place we stayed for an elongated summer,
      the front doors gates, were literally on the curve of a major road, traffic choked for 16 hours every day,
      but, the back yard opened-up to this expansive lush green garden, and at the bottom of the steep little dip, marking its end
      there was a lovely stream, so translucent fresh and clean and full of smooth cobbled stones;
      such a unique corner of the world, where two extreme's coexisted, either side of a place we called home, for a while...
      (that's where your words took me back to
      if only for a blessed - cherished, while
      thank you!)
      a beautiful write, dear Poet
      'with tendril hands, more reaching
      than the stars that guide our ways'

      • aDarkerMind

        thank you L.B.
        memories, for me, from times in a happy home, sadly taken;
        how kind of you to see;



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