Making Grey

The latest poem that I have written. Definitely not worthy of a pulitzer or anything but I wrote it while bored at work.

Making Grey

 

You pass through the night of the trees,

bathed in the sweat of morning.

The sigh of your face portrays doubt and fear.

 

But the milk of my skin

and the honey of my mane

will be your comfort.

 

I notice your step falls slow,

beaten and weathered by the storm of guilt.

The salt of your tears dries the peel of your cheeks

and ages you quickly, making your soul feel old

without the useful wisdom that accompanies.

 

But my warm, peach hands

and the butter of my embrace

shall steal those imaginary years away

and you will be reborn into free thought.

 

A darkness clouds your heart

and strangles your spirit.

The winds of time passing whittle your hair

and turn your beard course,

like metal shavings from the apron

or a working blacksmith.

 

But my plump pillows will cushion your head

and the wake of my smile

will wash your worries clean.

 

Your pain lingers behind your eyes,

floundered by uncertainty.

And all that you are

and all that you have become is questioned

by your faith in matters unfathomable to you.

 

But your despair will disappear

in the blink of my eyes,

and your love of life shall be renewed

when my sweet voice whispers your name

the way the gulls sing lullabies

to the sea.

 

                                                          June 15, 2009