The Heart of a Poet

 

Bury me
in the truths
of my pen
and lay me
down to rest
in fields of splendor
where wild flowers
rise to touch the sky
and the sunshine
never ends.
May I find shelter
beneath the sway
of weeping willow
arms outstretched
wide and elegant
whose subtle dance
shall settle
my weary heart
and I shall find peace
in the silence
of summer morn.
Yes, even in death,
the poet hopes
and dreams
although
reality – it seems
may never
taste as sweet
but it matters not,
where truth
resides
for beauty of heart
cannot be tamed
nor defined
with rigid hand –
the heart of a poet,
I hold in reverence.

©  Sumyanna 2015

 

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: bury

Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com