Solace

Who am I to say,
that thine beauty is fair
and should be exempt
from all of life's despair?

I,
the weeping flower
leans my petals
against the fresh snowed floor.
Reminiscing in these long nights of yore.
Wishing to see my sunshine,
in all of her grace
to keep me warm and plentiful
in this snow fallen place.
But though ever slow,
soon I know,
you will rise
so gracefully above the o'er snowed horizon
and keep me close,
as the visions beneath your closed eyelids.
And there I know,
when such darkness impedes in slow,
I will find
at noon in the sky,
when your love is shown
so wonderfully high
your fairness,
never fie
will forever shine.
The sun of my loving eye

poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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