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Poem Left At My Door
Just then the front door bell rang one more time,
but there was no one standing at the door.
All I did see was this small envelope
laid out, abandoned on the snow washed floor.
Now opened in my hands it took new shape,
the paper stained with water, blurred and wet,
like notes one pulls from bottles in the sea,
that float on typhoon’s waves and reach our net.
The ink and sentiment was rather dark
upon this curling paper I could see,
yet when I stretched it out full length to read
‘Twas like one puzzle piece left here for me.
The chill of winter wind was laced in words,
of solitude, and depth with pieces missing,
the feeling was of loneliness and frost,
of shuttered rooms and painful reminiscing.
Spring returns after a bitter winter,
I saved the note not knowing now the reason
and tucked it in my box of mysteries
fragile poem birthed in blizzard’s season.
Jan. 2. 2011
Cloud Forest Linc Island SL