Where you have known but slender twigs,
I shall bring you a tree;
where all the others left you thirsting,
I'll fill you with a sea.
When your door needs be unlocked
It's I who holds the key;
when you tire of prattling fools,
your answers come from me.
Who knows the needs within your heart,
your every unvoiced plea?
Who but I would know such things
and, knowing, have them be?
While you fear now to loose my bonds,
it's I shall set you free;
While others whisper soft of love,
it's you will whisper to me.
Stephen Brooke ©2016
First of the year. I would hope it is evident that this is not a serious personal poem but something written from a specific "point of view" for possible inclusion in a fantasy novel down the line. A lot of my stuff is really from a POV other than my own, really --- a poem is no different from a story in this respect.
The title is purely a placeholder.