A SENSE OF LOVE
Birdsong on the morning of
The first warm day of spring,
Skillful fingers playing
Along a guitar string,
The tinkle of a babbling brook
As sunlight makes it glisten,
All these things were there for me
But I forgot to listen.
The mirror of a mountain lake
Reflecting snowy peaks,
A playful child's impish grin
Between two rosy cheeks,
The orange glow of the setting sun
Sad to see it leaving,
There I was with open eyes
Seeing, not believing.
Aroma from a bakery
After a fresh batch,
Butter fried with onions
To cook the morning's catch,
A woman wearing fine perfume
And all that can entail
Persuing my olfactories
But I did not inhale.
The feather touch of a caress
Drawn across the skin,
Filling up a steaming bath
And slowly sinking in,
The warmth of a new friendship as
It forms a special bond,
These were reaching out to me
But I did not respond.
The boldness of a red Merlot
Dancing on the tongue,
An appertif of coffee
When the meal is done,
And every flavor in between
All so stimulating,
Filling my requirements
Filling, but not sating.
So being numb to stimuli
Both from within and out,
So blind and deaf and deadened
To what life is about
Had put me in a "comfort zone"
And left me near defenseless
When a gentle, strong reminder
Brought me to my senses.
copyright jas 2007
