Poem By: Suzanne McGillivray
My heart does still grieve to be seen,
Gently held, as delicate petals of the rose,
Easily bruised if not handled with tender touch,
Easily wizened if not kept moist,
Crushed underfoot if not conscious,
Easily discarded if intrinsic value not seen.
I see deep into the heart of me, for there I truly lay,
If others do not care to look,
If others do not care to see,
The very best, the very heart and soul of me.
There for those with eyes to see and ears to hear,
Otherwise deaf and blind to heavy hand and too loud of mouth,
For they will never know the secrets that lay within,
Waiting, silence in the precious tranquil rest.
© January 2011 Suzanne McGillivray
