Image courtesy of sritangphoto / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
I must admit that this poem was literally pulled out of me by an old yet new friend from my past (school) who has managed to reconnect with me in a big way, so thank you much MS COOPER!!! I also feel the need to attribute these words to another friend – YES, YOU CHRISTYB! It is these two ladies that I in this case consider – (((drumroll)) – FRIENDS. You have both supported me from day #1, and both of you still make yourselves a very present asset in helping me to clear my overly filled (with whatever at the time) brain – via encouragement, genuine friendliness, and authentic support.
I can only hope that these two gems receive some warm light in return for what that they continuously give out. 🙂
The Collector
Her special box is hidden in her heart,
Filled with many colors,
Shapes, forms;
Collecting often, but –
Sometimes – not always the norm.
Before, they lay dormant…
Until the day came,
To awaken –
Those forsaken –
And forlorn…
With the sweet scent of friendliness,
And compassion true;
She acknowledges all forms,
Be it red, brown, or other hue.
The shapes never matter,
Because her love never ceases to refrain;
From spreading a scattered distribution
Of camaraderie over the lawn of any species,
Holding the existence of pertinence –
To bliss and pain.
Keeping the old and bringing in
Those irregular – even blue,
The bright colors uplift,
While dark rich hues renew.
She sets newness neatly,
Lovingly,
In its designated spot;
Publicly, with all the others, discreetly.
She will savor joy,
Togetherness,
For a time, many pleasantries ;
Until back to that special hidden place,
Goes the collector’s paper leaves.
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