Garrison

Maybe it is him.
Maybe reading him has
Become my new religion.
An exercise into sophistication
And brillance.
But it seems that the wind has
Taken on new meaning.
It now seems ripe with promise...
A fertile awakening-if you will-
A giving birth-so to speak-
With awe so deep that it hurts.
Or that the outside world
Of nature seems to have
Been painted with double and
Triple coats of vivid.
That even the rose garden
And the once drab stones-now glisten.
Such marvels...
All because of him?
Were we meant to take
This walk together?
Embracing every sweet second
With no looking back or
One iota of regret?
Maybe, yes maybe, it is him.

By, Theodora Onken

March 7,2012

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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