A Poet's Prayer

In love I keep coming back to this place in the hope I'll hear your voice, feel your presence settle the evening and draw closer in the scented air. Already spring has fired the furnaces of desire and life trembles. Flowers beckon bees and I too seem drawn to this holy place. And yet this throbbing world seems veneered on a core of silence, the most exquisite sounds arise out of a hollow. My words echo around its walls and go unanswered. I keep coming back still enamored with creation, lovesick, holding these humble prayers I pin to a closed door hoping it will open.