A Poem: Slow

Slow, slow it down.
Good things take so much time,
as though time were the gift and
not the things obtained.

Good things are like wine smelt,
savoured,
swirled around, almost to the lip
of the glass,
then running down, down,
round again.

And brought so slowly to the mouth
that the tongue might linger
with the taste,
sip before it swallows
the rich red stream,
feel it warm the heart from inside out.

And good things shine
the way candlelight reflects off curves,
returns its own glow,
dances in the eyes,
the smiles of those who know everything
desired is as good as real.

That in the rush, the rush to harness
the ends of our goals,
we miss the satisfaction of imagining,
of everything in between.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
March 2021


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