Shall I smite thee, Satan, with the right hand of truth

or heal thee with the left hand of love?

Shall I share the light that glows in my heart

or is darkness always enough

to light your path, to show the tread from moonlit forests to lovelorn wrath?

Her eyes are bright like diamonds, I confess.

Her whisper is the night’s caress.

She guides me with her thoughts and prayers

down hellish caverns, up holy stairs

where cats convene on evenings quiet.

My heart’s content, I cannot deny it.

She breathes into my dreams at night

like whispers of smoke from fire light.

And when I wake to give my weary tressses a simple shake

I smile, and all the precious while

she greets my heart with a simple wish …

upon my lips … an angel’s kiss.


About michaelpoetry

I was born in Labrador (Happy Valley, to be exact ... isn't that a great place to be from?)
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