She is,
and always has been,
a poem waiting to be written.
I am,
but never was,
a messenger of words,
honored to be
keeper of her dreams.
Navigating between two worlds,
I search for answers
to questions
that have yet to be born.
Pen to paper,
I feel her presence,
her face frozen in time
like her picture
on my nightstand
that I greet with a kiss
at daybreak,
and echo at day's end.
Once again,
Florine has given me a great gift.
She has expanded my boundaries.
In searching for her voice,
I have not only discovered my own,
I have found a purpose
to move forward.
My universe is no longer monochromatic.
It is richly scented
with the colors of her life,
a kaleidoscope of hues and tints,
both beautiful and sad
at the same time.
Her life is my palette,
from which I paint
words on a page,
vivid as her essence,
free as her spirit,
effortless as her love.
She is not only a poem,
a magnified prism
of multicolored images,
she is the gift
we all search for,
but few are fortunate to find.
She is the treasure
at the beginning
and at the end
of my rainbow.
© JOHN PISCATELLA
4 comments:
John,
This is beautiful ! "The Gift" makes my heart thump. lisa
Hi John. Still reading and loving these love poems. XOXOXOXO
I returned to read your love story and once again feel close to my beautiful cousin.
Your writing is just awesome, John.
Love,
Sandy
Good evening, John - I'm back! Thank you so much for the phone call - I shall return it soon, with explanations/excuses for my absence; have read back to Oct. 28th - read quickly, as one would who is moderately "detached", ie., who would be picking up this book of poems (as it no doubt will be) for the first time with no knowledge of the poet/subject, and the immediate impression is stunning - the continuity is excellent, the development of your life in this time of agony/hope/remembrances poignant yet such a strong will/effort/desire to go on, for Her.
Love, Annie
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