The pleasantness of you against my thought
Makes sweet the hours that otherwise are not
Winter’s despair is gentled by the show’r
Bathing the bud and nudging it to flow’r
We could collect life’s failure and its woe
But darling, tell me, what good would it do?
I choose the pleasure of the touch of you
The past is done; none can its threads undo
The future, with its muted mystery
Does not adhere to the heart’s fantasy
The pleasantness of you against my thought
Redeems the sullen void of what is not
Worry and woe align their hopeless schemes
Attempting to dismantle the heart’s dreams
The raw and useless curse of sad regret
Employs its demons, ah, lest I forget
But then, like mercy’s misty morning dew
I reach to touch the gentle thought of you
The imminence of all that yet is not
Cannot compete with you against my thought
© Janet Martin
Oh Janet, what a beautiful poem. Thank you for posting it.
ReplyDeleteThank-you Sasha. I was in the middle of writing something else and suddenly this one interrupted:)
ReplyDeleteThank-you so much for stopping by.
I don't know what you were writing before, but this was a very good interruption!
ReplyDelete;)
Thank-you Sue:)
ReplyDelete