Saturday, May 28, 2011

a feast for the senses

Man has no Body distinct from his Soul; 

for that called Body is a portion of Soul discerned by the five Senses, 
the chief inlets of Soul in this age.
William Blake

Cool rain on warm ground
Coffee just-made
Hot buttered toast
These things I love to smell

Strong shoulders
expensive cotton sheets
warm dough ready for kneading
These things I love to touch

Kids playing
The faint sound of music growing louder as I draw close to a party
spontaneous singing, just for the joy of it
These things I love hearing

Glossy magazines
Photographs of those I love
These things I love to look at

Dark dark chocolate, melting on my tongue
First kisses
Raspberries straight from the garden
These things I love tasting

The smell of my children, fresh from a bath
The taste of home baking, still warm from the oven
The sight of a sunrise, viewed from my bed
The feel of a hug, encompassing me
The sound of laughter, unabandoned

These things nourish my soul


JoGillespie said...

A beautiful poem, straight from the heart, written by a new friend. That is something I love reading. :-)

mighty acorns said...

thanks Jo:)