My Stranger

by Michael Weidman


Spring covered arm of blossoms
Holds out her hand
To welcome my stranger
Into a delightful dreamland.

The scent of cherries overwhelms,
The sun’s smile lightly brands.
My stranger feels at home.
All memories turn to sand.

She’ll pour her senses into you
Like filling a vase of flowers.
The weight of joy grows heavy
And your struggles turn sour.

My stranger lost his ambition
In his stalking of the truth,
And fell to the tempting goodness
Yet another naive youth.

The castle, old and well-known,
My hiding place from danger.
I’ll sit within and continue work,
Another friend becomes a stranger.


Copyright © 2016 by Michael Weidman

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