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Poem

I am not dreaming, certainly. .
Not even dreams of the purest happiness 
Contain that of which makes up this precious being. . .
How softly she smiles at me….
Like the beautiful gypsy, La Esmeralda,
To the hideous hunchback Quasimodo, 
Looking not on my face and frame with any ounce of fear nor fright—
But with wholesome love and compassion. . 

She extinguishes all past hurt 
With the gentle, fervent touch of those soft, small hands,
The determined gleam in her eyes of certainty, mercy and trust…..
A guardian in this icy world of hate and suspicion, 
Whom melts this frozen heart with her words of skill and will!

I should almost wish to steal her away—
Yet any power or control that I have once possessed is lost in her good deeds
I cannot be tempted to hurt or wrong her any longer,
For she and she alone acknowledges my life with the stainless soul
Of justice and kindness!

She has restored my hope like the rays of the sun 
Beating upon a warming ground once cold and rigid through many nights
She melts me like the ice of the mountain’s peak, 
Which now pours such warm, gratifying tears,
Down the  dangerous trails, to the humbling base…..

Sweet angel of relief…..
I will cling to you as I have nothing…..
I rely on you, for you are everything…….

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