A golden bee played background music to her thoughtful sighs,
Her gaze attached to hummingbirds and silky butterflies.
The Poet leant himself against the sunlit, cloudless sky,
And it was then he felt an urge to send her a reply.
He hitched a ride upon a wing and bid the sun goodbye.
The ground that touched his feet was carpeted in emerald green.
The trees surrounded, bending inwards, stately and serene.
Her eyes bejeweled her honest face; the Poet took her hand,
He said “I’ll show you what we see, and then you’ll understand.”
And soon she saw the trueness and the beauty of the land.
He pulled her by her fingertips to sit amongst the wings.
“Today I’ll tell of magic, beauty, all those precious things.
Tonight, I’ll tell of scars that decorate my very soul;
The scars and magic braided shape a love I can’t control,
For love, it fuels our hearts and love, it also takes its toll.”
To tell of magic first he let himself fall through the skies,
She curled herself around him and he stared into her eyes.
The scars that scratched his spirit worked themselves onto his face;
She saw the inner poet as the gashes took their place.
They intertwined their fingers as they sunk through starlit space.
He told her then of beauty in the only way he knew:
The lightest kiss on perfect lips, her cheeks a rosy hue.
The softened, grassy landing sparkled with the morning dew,
And through the vivid silence came the Poet’s “I love you.”
Poem written in direct response to this poem, which was the prompt:
she was alone, all alone
enjoying a calm summer day
when suddenly an innocent question
teased her mind,
“I wonder how a poet feels
When he is madly in love
And how would he seeks
A beloved, who from he couldn’t get enough”