When We Meet
I’ll not meet you side the highway,
Nor in the halls of commerce,
Where serenity and quiet,
Have no home … nor can be found.
I’ll reserve for us a table,
With a window on the Bayside.
Softly draped, with cloth of linen,
Weaved by noble Peasant hand.
We will sup with wine by locals.
Label known not to the merchant.
We will dine on fare from labours,
Of attentive, gentle care.
We'll be slow about our speaking.
Of each other we are learning.
Of each other are becoming,
More as One ... no more, the Twain.
We are learning, and accepting,
All that is our inner Beings.
All within us … all that makes us …
All defining who we are.
Can we cling to, save, this moment?
Can we hold it to our bosom?
Will it nurture and uphold us?
When our outside worlds, we face?
‘Tis most certain that we cannot.
For life’s swirling all about us.
This, the fledgling bond between us …
Life would pull and tear apart.
So please meet me, ere you wander,
In your busy life and duty,
At our table … by that window.
Where our Union knits, once more.
John-Michael
25 February 2008
Revised & Retitled 3 May 2009
6 comments:
Oh what a beautiful poem....Hugs
Thank You Bernie! I looked back, and it seems that I am in the mood for the rhythm and tempo of these thoughts around this time each year. Go figure! (such a strange saying!)
Lovingly ...
[and a great big THANK YOU for the Hugs][smile]
That's a magnificent bit of work, John-Michael. Flows beautifully, and says something profound in the bargain.
Question: Do you always spell 'labour' with the extra vowel, a la the UK or Canada? Or was it a conscious choice? I think it works; much more elegant than 'labor'.
How generously kind of You Jim, my Dear SulDog Friend! This is a fragment of my innermost Being's experience in that Moment. A 'Fossil' of my feelings, if you will.
The 'Olde English' usage of 'labour' seemed to be fitting with the overriding sense that was expressing itself as the "sup, ere, & fare" employed in the expression ... as well as the 'environment' created by imagery of 'weaving,' 'Peasant,' the 'Twain,' and even 'knitting' that emerged from my reflections. It just seemed at home in this venue. And I am so very complimented and pleased that you permitted yourself the involvement that raised the question.
You are a blessed Gift to my Heart, Dear Friend ...
It made me smile. Thank you.
Consider the invitation ... yours ... my Dear NiteByrd.
Lovingly ...
(PS: I am truly delighted to have given you a smile.)
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