Tenderly

Softly, tenderly, When I'm sad and lonely, I read verses of melancholy, Of frustrated love, Of prayers for a better tomorrow, Of things that I've never heard of. They console me and hold me, Like a mother embracing her scared child. Poetry, since childhood has been my friend, My accompanying musical instrument, As I turn Life's lonely bend. Then, Now, and in the Future, I came across your poetic flowered bough, That with starlit images wrote, The most Miraculous Verses, That language can allow, Like thousands of delights, opening, The Portals of Heaven on earth, Filling me with endless mirth, Words that make your life precious, A call to Beauty, in a Soul so spacious.