Inspired by the pleasure of acquaintance with Cory Garcia
Check out his work on this site
When solitude turns into loneliness
I seek solace in the magic grove
Of your poems, your verse.
I step through ever so lightly,
Taking in every line, every word.
Hungrily I inhale the meanings
Of this enchanting story,
Or that bewitching song...
As a myriad morning flowers
On a hidden meadow
They open up to me
In all their beauty and grace.
They entice me to meander in deeper...
I follow a babbling brook.
Hypnotized by the sweet sound
Of life giving water
I scramble past
Scraggly branches and thick ferns.
It is as if they are trying to stop me,
Hiding something they don’t want
A wandering stranger to find.
Something precious, secret...
Or.. maybe... someone
I see, just up ahead,
Perched on a rock,
Lost deeply in thought.
The attentive gardener of the poem-flowers,
The custodian and creator of this mystical world.
You can’t notice me, I’m so quiet.
And you are preoccupied
With coaxing a new song to life.
The quill in your hand
Racing through lines in thin air,
Only you can discern.
I sit down right next, a little behind,
So as not to distract your train of thought.
As you finish, and a new flower-poem
Is vibrant with a life of its own,
You become aware, you turn
And a quiet smile lights up your face,
Your eyes saying
'I’ve been expecting you, dear friend’
As you take my hand
In your warm hands.
©Olga Gavrilovskiy 2013
poetry, poet, garden, song, story, secret grove, solitude, loneliness