To you I’d send a dew dropped rose
That glistens in its quiet repose,
The fragrance of a piney forest,
The singing from a thrushes nest.
To you I’d send a winter’s day,
The dawning at the break of day,
The fluffy down from a Robin’s breast,
The silence of a fawn at rest.
The softness of a summer rain
To all but us is naught, in vain.
We see the beauty in these things
To all the rest they’re tarnished rings.
Your beauty‘s in your lovely smile
The purity that can’t beguile
Your honest heart will not betray
The things we do and share today.
©Herb Ratliff, December 26, 196?, All Rights Reserved
Author's Note:
The poem was written in response to what I thought was an original poem from a college sweetheart. It was handwritten inside a Christmas Card. It turned out the poem she sent had been copied. There was no intention of deception. She simply found a beautiful poem to send that she thought communicated her feelings. I felt compelled to write an original back to her and this poem was the poem, the first I ever wrote. It served to stimulate my inclination to write original prose and poetry. I'm grateful I misunderstood. Without this misunderstanding I doubt I would have been inclined to write. So, it's my favorite poem, but I have never titled it. Any suggestions? Herb
Between Us
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