Soft but clear was the essence of a whisper,
That sifted and separated me from despondency to awe.
I was bound to despair but now I tread on lovely marbles.
Glistening: the shimmering hue of faith and the vividness of hope, I was heaven bound.

She said ‘Come on let me off to your stormy nights.’
But no! My thoughts are torrents of hail, my heart ice;
It’s cold, it burns in those nights with no dawn.
So from the depths she hoisted me unto the warmth of a creaking canoe, aboard her homely arms as we drifted in time.

She said ‘Believe, wake up we are close to home.’
And the light that dangle from her eyes conducted me to a lull unbeknown.
Somewhere between mystery and despair I lost her again.
But I often see her in a box filled with nostalgia.

A poem by Tonny Wandella