National Poetry Day
Waiting for love.
Long had I yearned for the sense of his love,
Believing always one day he would come,
Like a dove been set free, I had let him go
My heart kept faith, with a constant glow,
The warmth of feeling the love is still there,
Even though you can’t touch it, that is hard to bare,
When I heard his story, I knew it matched mine,
Soul to soul, my mate so divine.
He did not know this, as divulge I did not,
It would have sound corny like I’d copied his plot!
My dream was one day that my prince would return,
To begin where we left off that day on the phone.
I still think sometimes that he is about.
Just certain notions, a feeling, then, doubt.
I hope he is happy somewhere out there,
As happy as the feelings that I had declared.
This came to me having read John Astor’s blog on death.
I hope you don’t think I am morbid. I was travelling through a village on my way home and having read JOHN’S story this came to me.
As I drove through the village,
I did surmise,
Thousands of people have lived and died,
I looked at the changes which had arrived
from the new modern buildings and Victorian alike!
If only these magnificent buildings could speak,
What a tale of history they could repeat,
The loves, the lost, the good and the bad?
Oh, what a tale could be had.
So many life stories, year upon year,
As we live, grow and die and disappear.