grumpyStories from the Heart
January 3rd 2008 05:13
(for Janice)
Stories from the heart, spoken through eyes
Glancing, meeting, then melting together
Cannot be told with harsh winter words
Nor summer's torrid emotion, yet a word
Soft, like a yearning sigh,
or hard, like a cry of pain
Can open the secret door
And in a moment, as eyes meet
Two lives become one.
Stories from the heart are never secrets.
Whispered in lonely darkness, or shared
In silent space between dull words
Unbidden, they tersely tell our truths,
Traitors within our secret keeps
They shine love from our battlements
And cry pain through the cracked walls
Of our separate cities of self.
Stories from the heart too often fail,
In yearning flight, they leap from souls
To dance in space between sudden smiles
Only to be lost, when a moment's glance
From a passing stranger fades from eyes
That yearn no less, yet turn aside
Too soon to answer pain with love
Or catch the drift of another tide.
How perfect then, the precious moment
When a single word becomes a key
To the gates of some lonely citadel,
When trembling fingers reach in darkness
To feel their way along ancient walls,
When footsteps upon broken stairs
Echo the beat of a waiting heart,
When a castle yields its ageless power
To the small, gentle hands of love.
Stories from the heart, spoken through eyes
Glancing, meeting, then melting together
Cannot be told with harsh winter words
Nor summer's torrid emotion, yet a word
Soft, like a yearning sigh,
or hard, like a cry of pain
Can open the secret door
And in a moment, as eyes meet
Two lives become one.
Stories from the heart are never secrets.
Whispered in lonely darkness, or shared
In silent space between dull words
Unbidden, they tersely tell our truths,
Traitors within our secret keeps
They shine love from our battlements
Of our separate cities of self.
Stories from the heart too often fail,
In yearning flight, they leap from souls
To dance in space between sudden smiles
Only to be lost, when a moment's glance
From a passing stranger fades from eyes
That yearn no less, yet turn aside
Too soon to answer pain with love
Or catch the drift of another tide.
How perfect then, the precious moment
When a single word becomes a key
To the gates of some lonely citadel,
When trembling fingers reach in darkness
To feel their way along ancient walls,
When footsteps upon broken stairs
Echo the beat of a waiting heart,
When a castle yields its ageless power
To the small, gentle hands of love.
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