the grotto of my heart
is a quiet refuge
a holy place
it lives and loves
the timeless
the eternal

the restless world
wails, complains
rattles the gate
my heart hears
and weeps
yet must remain
harborage, a shelter
for what is true

water laps the grotto
birds flit and chirp
their ruby, emerald,
canary plumage
festoons the trees—
I breathe and sigh

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

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