Out of Insight

Though out of sight need not be out of mind,
know chill that hoars in Winter thaws in Spring,
tide and time's flow spin slow, to loss resigned,
soul s[t]ealer must withstand the seasons' ring.

Why whisper low, so seldom secrets last,
at night we dine on stealthy shadow drift,
ambrosia - a nonpareil repast -
lifts spirit as the choicest, sweetest gift.

Such sensuality some sonnets paint,
pen on spread virgin paper tender touch, caress,
soothes mind, excites heart, grips, yet sheds constraint
while words transporting openly confess
that tears, if tears there be, are those of joy
which stream from inspiration's source sans ploy.

(22 January 2009 robi03_1845_robi03_0000 SXX_ILZ)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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