The Guest
To what did I owe the pleasure
Of the visit of such a stature
As I am much of a lost
I've taken the liberty of the most
I have not one but many of a question
For what lingers in me is a wondering passion
And as I burn in the silence of the passing breeze
I echo the songs of the dancing leaves
So to what did I owe the pleasure
Of the visit of such an esteemed stature
For many has begged and cried for you
As many as the sweet morning dew
And has it not been sublime
You spoke not a word yet you brought the ripples of time
And as you have come as a wondering guest
I came to embrace the gift of such a bequest
January 29, 2025
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