Ernesto P. Santiago Poet Sonnet

The Warm Weaver

Hola, I saw her today with a smile, so sweet and fresh 
like the milk she nourished me. She sat, on the back 
porch, weaving her passion, creating a web of caress,
for this young heart---the black and white pic of a duck.

I sat, not far, watching her eager hands with patience 
of a saint, as she stitched the last image, of her mind;
sometimes, she threw looks at me, perhaps her conscience 
bothered her, for letting me, me alone, pass the time.

‘Cos for her, occasional strong wind howls that bother
is her savoring concern, not wanting this young heart
to live and be clothed by its un-gentleness, but rather  
be warmed by a mantle of love---her passion, her art.

Hola, I saw her today with a smile, so sweet and fresh
like the milk she nourished me, from her own breasts.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment