sweetly in the tree she plays her song
of inspiration
with the psaltery
and the wind blows ever gently in her hair.
creaking on the floorboards he steps softly
so to hear the melody and not disturb
the purity, because she's unaware.
leaning up against the wooden railing
he can see her on the largest limb
her feet are dangling down
it appears she's lost a sandal.
and from that place, the sweetest sound
her voice
the same when he's around
but softly singing praises
to another man.
Smiling, it's the one
and only Jesus
who can lift this girl beyond
life's insecurties and troubles to a higher place.
The same one who gives
strength for all that climbing with
and instrument of peace, and be assured that it's for
now and it's forever.
Music stills the soul
and calms the torrents,
but troubled times can wrench the heart
and we may need a place of solitude
to hide away awhile.
Next time he will see
she has a ladder
to the tree
he'll build a platform
and a smile will pass between them
since he understands.
Love is kind and patient
all enduring and accepting
when there comes a time
we can not fill the empty place.
Knowing you are there inspite
of everything that's happened
is a comfort and just like
God who never leaves or turns His face.
Hearing these soft words
he takes a seat upon the porch swing
and will be there till the sun goes down
or nature calls or someone falls
'cause after all...
she has no business climbing trees.
5 comments:
Another beautiful poem. I enjoyed eavesdropping on the girl in the tree. Again, you managed to inject humor with that last line. Someone left a comment on my blog that "happy" poems are no good. I read this poem and clearly disagree.
Thank you, LGS for your thoughtful comment. You are a lone grey squirrel who knows the trees better than most who might venture out this way.
So happy poems are 'no good'? Mr. Melanncholy has a right to his own opium, but I think humanity will always have a slot for Pollyanna. Good or not, you need your happy poems. Getting rid of happy is like shooting one of the 7 Dwarfs.
I don't really set out to write a happy poem here. I just wanted to paint a scene which is experienced through his eyes. There is no real interaction or indication of his relationship to her. I like subjective poems which leave the reader to assume what they will. Freedom to branch out alittle, Mr LGS?
I think that is one of my foavorites; it speaks to my heart.
Thank you, Nony. It's my very favorite also.
do I have a psaltry for you! see you friday!
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