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.
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