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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
Sometimes people grow together slowly,
As trees reach across an old stone wall,
Entangling roots and crossing slender branches
Till one can barely tell which comes from which.
You've become part of my life slowly,
As music, often played, lives in the heart,
Shaping its surroundings to its beauty,
Mirroring the sanctum of its source.
I've come to this realization slowly,
As a deer stands at a clearing, nostrils wide,
Quivers rippling down its delicate legs,
Eyes resigned as lakes await the wind.
Say, my friend, what you must tell me
slowly,
Whether my love is also yours, as the sun
Rises or sets over a tranquil valley,
Filling the heart with more than it can hold. |
