by Tea Solon

whensoever slumber
consigns to oblivion
its visits in moments
between cold midnight
and warm sunrise your

poetry holds me.

soothing. much liken
to how the windsong
brush cold fire on my
cheeks at early dawn

or how the wavesong
stroke warm ice on my
raven hair at late dusk.

your poetry finds me.

i am never alone or lost
i am never neglected or
deserted. in my solitude

your moving metaphors
accompanied me like a
constellation of stars at
dark or a suite of colors
at first light of day. your

rhythm entertained me
like uneven preternatural
song of courtship between
thunder and lightning on
stormy nights. invariably

your poetry encompasses.

Oct 14, 2021

Cebu, Philippines

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Photo by Bernd 📷 Dittrich on Unsplash