It May Be.
In the pit of midnight though cold
is curtained and
fittingly covered comes a yearning
for thee, vain
hope decides to unsleep and keep
me wide-eyed
til morning has for certain broken.
When laid low
by memory I find myself clinging
close to thy
pillow and think of that presence
its hollow will hold.
At last a slow winning of pale over
grey as dawn's
rosy fingers bid me away, I go to
gaze thru' my
window until tide is high for this
time it may be
the one that is bringing thee safe
home to me again.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: December 24th, 2022 10:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
- Users favorite of this poem: Eugene S.
Offline)
Comments5
Beautiful!
Indeed a double thank you dear poet friend - so pleased you enjoyed the piece called It May Be and posted it to your faves.
Eugene S. just said it all ....... x
Thank you Neville.............x
Such a fitting picture accompanies this beautiful poem, of love that waits and never wavers. A gentle breath exhaled as I read, thank you!
Yes love is every hopeful and when waiting for fishing boats sweethearts and wives have for long ages kept vigil until their man's vessel comes over the horizon - am so pleased your enjoyed the use of old phrasing too. Thank you dear Bella for your encouraging comments.
Beautiful loving words Fay.
Andy
And so the missed one has arrived. Heartwarming!
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