. . . your many faces . . .
In tattered old sheet music. . .
that I played on the piano
and danced to
at a college prom.
Um-m-m - those haunting lyrics. . .
ah, the tender moments. . .
In love letters tied up in lavender ribbons in a shiny box.
In photo albums of shared sweet moments.
In flowers pressed between the pages of a book.
Sweet nostalgia. . .
In life, circumstances may conspire,
a private time may ripen,
and opportunity may arise
to become fully "together" within oneself.
After that, it simply abides there,
one moves ahead just . . . "being",
as water trickles and splashes along,
happily sparkling in the sun.
Then one can truly harmonize with another person,
being harmonized within, being whole.
Being fully oneself, one can truly share.
It's true what they say. . .
One must love oneself
in order to love another.
It's not by rigid effort.
Deep serenity floods through oneself.
One who loves
Gives it forth -
Like roses, their perfume.
But a silken rose
Is odorless -
Regardless of its bloom.
We grow by living.
We know by being all we are.
Quiet musings on an April day in the new millennium. . .
Whenever I think
...and I often do...
You exist for me
In my present,
Here and now.
My present is a gift
I give you now.
Of my thoughts of you
Is the gift
I give to me.
© 1970-2006 - Created & Copyrighted by Nellieanna H. Hay