the pauper

by hiraeth   Jan 30, 2020


my love,
when y/our world seems barren
by choice or fact, the mundane
seems rich.

commutes are no
longer burdens, but journeys
into the souls of perfect
strangers.

the ray of sunlight that finds
its way through the sliver of
an opening in the curtains,
reddening your cheeks with
tender kisses in the midst of an
exhausted sleep is welcomed,
not shunned, after all the universe
found a way to remind you that
you’re loved.

passing conversations are
lengthy discourses where we
peer into one another’s soul,
and come out a bit more
enlightened.

my love,
when the world offers naught,
you make mahogany from twigs.

3


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  • 3 weeks ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    Ohh, I love the "y/our" that you've written in other poems.

    This was gentle and subtle and just... lovely. I don't have any other way to describe it.

    I know the feeling of being amazed or welcoming the mundane, the routine parts of life that can be so easily overlooked. Sometimes, it's beyond comforting to have those little moments, little moments that are really big. The other day I was driving home from work, and lately it's been consistently cloudy and gray here, yet the sun poked out. I was kind of speechless. I love that we can find purpose in those moments and be encouraged that the universe cares for us this way. Loves us even.

    One small note:
    "the ray of sunlight that finds it’s way" --> I believe "it's" should be "its".

    This poem is perfection. The soft utterance of "my love" in the beginning and ending stanzas makes this poem heartwarming, genuine and I feel at peace. Like there is enough hope. Your voice is so wonderfully tender in this.

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