The Watch
I watch helplessly from
my window waiting for you
and see butterflies;
birds in flight
occasionally landing
in thin bare branches but
you are not in sight.
I have cooked a stew
of love for you, my love,
in hopes of your return.
The blushing Bromeliad
has withered.
A doleful hush
engulfs the house;
The wind calls out your name.
A leaf has fallen from
the Red Oak we
carved our names in long ago my love!
I wait in earnest hope
of your return as the lovebird
pains for his lost mate.
Copyright © Allen Beilschmidt Sr. | Year Posted 2019
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