༺ ♡.PINKY.♡ ༻
Ramblings & RL Stories
Whispers from afar
He whispers to me from afar;
His distant strains I hear—
As I embrace each word and rhyme,
His disquietude made clear.
For now and then he speaks of death,
Or a certain slant of light—
Of hope, the thing with feathers,
That he penned by candlelight.
Or what mystery pervades a well,
The exhilaration of a breeze—
Of the butterflies he saw at noon,
Or the Bible and the bees.
His riches teach me poverty,
That to lose is sweeter gain—
That morning is the place for dew,
Or sometimes, even rain!
We eat and drink of precious words,
Of the light steps of a star—
Of spring’s impatient landscape;
How the soul should stand ajar.
Dear, my dearest friend,
Will there a morning be?
For as I cannot stop for death,
It will kindly stop for me!
Off to my appointment.