A Walk in the Park with Mr. Walt Whitman

August 3, 2008
By Emily Wilson, Henderson, NC

I'd ask of you to take a walk
Part your sweet lips and to me talk
Your sacred mysteries unlock
But would you mock, but would you mock?

My still innocent, aching brain
That is as fresh as spring's first rain
Will it's ignorance cause you pain?
Could you remain, could you remain

By my side as I ask of you
Questions you hold the answers to
As knowledge I vainly pursue
How is it true, how is it true?

That waking, you look down below
And sprawled beneath your glass window
A young morning glory does grow
With such a glow, with such a glow?

With more wonder than the pages
Of physics over the ages
Compiled by anceint sages
Wisdom's wages, wisdom's wages

Perhaps I have lived too few nights
To expect to see with your sight
In dismal worlds of black and white
Your colors bright, your colors bright

Mr. Whitman, I'm in the dark
As we tread slowly in the park
But I will absorb your remarks
Journey embark, journey embark

If you could, from my closed eyes
Remove the lids of former lies
Until I clearly see the skies
Then say goodbye, then say goodbye

The setting sun says it's late
I pass through the park's rusted gate
Knowing your answer's worth the wait
I tasted fate, I tasted fate

The author's comments:
I was inspired to write this poem by one of my favorite quotes from Walt Whitman: "A morning glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books."

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