UNNAMED SYMPHONY

There was something hopeful about
the start of that day--something gentle,
serene, and promising as the dawn,
beautiful enough to be the rising sun, itself,
yet it was not overbearing;
timidly, it stayed in the background,
complimenting the sky, the trees, and
the soft morning breeze, allowing
enough of a glimpse to warrant
its breathtaking presence, yet,
leaving the viewer desiring more
as the day swiftly grew and progressed.

I can see it as I move through the day--
it's there, but just out of my reach;
enticing and elusive, beckoning to me,
lifting me up to kiss the blossoming sky,
yet avoiding my touch, my outstretched hand,
as I yearn to hold its grace and beauty,
and I cry...
I do not understand.

It is only within the palm of evening
that my own grasp fits,
and I fully embrace the darkness, unseen--
that unknown beauty the day gave
a mere memory; a dream reverberating
in its own magnificence.

The cool, crisp dark of nightfall
now closes my eyes to the remnants of day,
lulling me into a complacent calm
and leaving me still; composed,
with open palms, as I await the morning,
and that grace akin to breaking dawn
that shall forever remain nameless
in its own humble, yet perfect,
defense.

(this poem previously appeared in Poet's Review)


SEASHELL

Night shuts you down like a bird;
having spent your fragile wings,
they now fold gently over your breast
in exhaustion, tiny mouth closing on
your endless barrage of words that knew
no form or meaning, yet pierced
the entire length of day

Now you sleep, curled protectively
in your own small world.
I can do nothing but watch your tiny chest
rise and fall as the tide
with the breath of your being
and innocence

I cup my ear to the silence--
to your in- and exhalation
and can almost hear the pulse and hiss
of the ocean as it swells, rises,
and gently breaks upon the shore
of our simple existence

( this poem has previously appeared in The Griffin,
The Terrace Journal,
and Kaleidoscope)



© Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Bio: Cynthia is 39 years old and lives in Sacramento. Her work has appeared in Blind Man's Rainbow, Underground Voices, Dead Fun, Zygote In My Coffee, and many more publications.