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 Pages Of A Woman's Soul


Time just for us is
What we do seek.
A place of our own
In secret to hold.
Somewhere that as friends
Our thoughts we can speak
Where minutes are spent
Like fine gold.

A warm yellow sun
To brighten our way;
A whisper of breeze
Does cool us.
The moist woodland path
Will lead us astray
As the air fills with
Notes of bird chorus.

Oh, walk with me now
Beside the still pond
Where Iris and Lilies
Grow hardy.
The turtles sleep lazy
‘neath the fern fronds,
whilst bullfrogs call us
to their party.

Sweet mockingbird's voice
Calls only we two,
To rest for a while
By an arbor.
In shady repose
Of rosy pink hue
This trellis becomes
Our safe harbor.

A turn back in time
To gentler days
Is ours as we walk
Through the garden.
In the lee of a porch
We dreamily gaze
‘til a blue jay does
beg our pardon!

Under a mulberry
Ancient and split
We find branches
To climb aplenty.
And farther along
One more place to sit-
A gazebo turns us
Into gentry.

Past a fine meadow
Of wildflowers we go
Calling names of the
Favorites we see.
There, brown-eyed Susan,
Here now, a yarrow,
Coreopsis, and there
A red poppy.

A picnic of tea and
Truffles we share,
As robber squirrels beg
For a morsel.
Then in poems read
Our souls we do bare
And through a bard's words
Our concerns quell.

How winsome a day of
Pleasure we've shared!
What treasures of heart
We now carry!
How simple and true
Expressions of care
When in leisure
We both do tarry.

Kathryn  Tate Jacoby
Copyright June 1999

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