Hand in Hand

HAND IN HAND

When I see you look at me

I reflect on what it was to be

Without you in my life

The emptiness rife

 

When you speak my name

My heart rings

For the joy it brings

To hear you call

And my sorrows away do fall

 

I bless the day

When you came my way

Fulfilling what seems

until then

to be only dreams

 

and now after all this time

it seems but yesterday

when we found together our way

and set upon life’s journey together

hand in hand, forever

-Shiidon, December, 2008

OK, I need to explain this poem.  No, even though it is in the first person I do not have "someone" in my life right now.  I have been asked if I can write about other things than what has been seen here so far.  I could write other things like:

The piece of toast, 

It doth boast

etc. etc.

But other things came to mind.  I was contemplating last week on my friends that have been married for any number of years and those that have been close to me.  I was feeling a wave of joy thinking about how special it is to find that person and be happy together.  Now, the skeptic will say that this kind of happiness is fleeting and not there most of the time.  I have thought about this quite a bit.

Who else is there to be the hopeless romantic in this world but the poet or song writer.  The ideals we strive for or the dreams we aspire for are not always realistic or within our grasp.  The poets of the world capture our dreams and put them on paper.  We read them and respond to them as they resonate on some level with what we are going through, aspiring to or feeling.  I have learned with my poems that they have a different meaning to different people.  Or for that matter, the time that I wrote one that was on a very personal level and found the reader thinking it reflected what they were going through themselves at that moment.  So here I am, writing a poem about something that I see around me.  There is no telling what each person will take from it.  There will be some that will say it is one of their favorite, there will be those who think it is about them, there will be others who think it is dribble and then there will be some that will remark how it seems to be a digression from what I have been normally writing about.  I may be an idealist, however, I will continue to express what I find in my heart as it comes to me and leave it to the reader to decide.  For me, I can always dream.