In the coldest, darkest places I've been,
Memories and thoughts of you bring ease.
The sun, the moon, the stars that gleam,
Your face to me is all of these.
Even in the dead of night,
It is your face that is my light,
And it often gives me warmth and comfort,
When my heart is heavy and mind encumbered,
Frail from the weight of a troublesome world,
Your face brings joy, my strength, my nerve,
And it removes all that once disturbed,
Despair and hopelessness at once disperse.
This that I have written to describe,
Your mouth, your cheeks, your nose, your eyes,
Speaks of beauty unquantified,
That calms the soul and stems the tide.
So I searched in depth that if I might,
Find a word, or words that would suffice,
And some were found to my delight,
How you have made all dimness bright.
But should shadows and dismay creep in,
And begin their work to fade and dim,
And disrupt the place you've always been,
Since blue was grey and hope was thin.
Bring it all whatever the truth is known,
So that if parts within are broken,
Then let these words and lines, this poem,
Remain to me a token.
It must be said and the truth made clear,
The beauty of another could not repair,
All efforts to cure that thing which ails,
Apart from you and all must fail!
J.S.