There are people I have designed a quiet life around
their inspiration carries intrigue by which I am bound.
Though one might imagine, I am not inside the same
outside there seems the human condition is a game.
I live a fantasy trying in desperation to be the person I am
I struggle to witness this ‘be’ suggestion is less of a sham.
Speak sweet serenity
it is the truth,
it is the compassion
of the one I love.
One time on a summer day I discovered the beauty of her
walked into my life she did, at first my hesitation was sure
One day she smiled in commentary to our initial dialogue
as time might pass I did imagine a letter in a distant fog.
So surreal a moment when love speaks our own silent rhythm,
we would, maybe, we might, perhaps blame it on an algorithm
Speak sweet serenity
it is the truth,
it is the compassion
of the one I love.
Would that words become the bridge toward certain freedom
that which might allow the beauty of elegance a diadem,
As Emily would speak, her words would describe her world,
in the quiet refuge a privacy, she did in life’s confusion twirled.
Oh to know the power of words would find the truth we desire
without fear, trepidation, simply a humble plea ignite our fire.
Speak sweet serenity
it is the truth,
it is the compassion
of the one I love.
© Scott F Savage 5/2020
the ‘b’ series
apersonaljourney - stories of love 