Beauty streamed into my hand
In sunlight through a pane of glass;
Now at last I understand
Why suns must pass.
I have held a shadow, cool
Reflection of a burning gold,
And it has been more beautiful
Than hands should hold.
To that delicate tracery
Of light, a force my lips must name
In whispers of uncertainty,
Has answered through me in a flame.
Beauty is the core of fire
To reaching hands; even its far
Passing leaves a hurt desire
Like a scar.
(Hazel Hall)
More Poetry from Hazel Hall:
Hazel Hall Poems based on Topics: Light, Fire, Gold, Uncertainty, Beauty- A Baby's Dress (Hazel Hall Poems)
- Stairways (Hazel Hall Poems)
- Puzzled Stiches (Hazel Hall Poems)
- Things That Grow (Hazel Hall Poems)
- Three Girls (Hazel Hall Poems)
- Light Sleep (Hazel Hall Poems)