rosepoems

some say glorious things
are buried deep within the earth
they say they are hidden
and must be discovered
they say they are rare
and come only to those
who work or wait or wish
for glorious things.
but what if,
what if, there is glory
for everyone who looks
and magic for all who see
and wonder for all who feel

if glorious things are hidden
are rare,
what is the magnificent light
forcing my eyes open
each and every day
making my room glow,
making the world glow,
allowing me to see the simple joy
of deep brown eyes
filled with unconditional love
a wagging tail
that is not discretionary, does not judge
a sniffing nose
that always recognizes and knows
a furry head
that rests on the edge of my bed
ecstatically happy to see me.