Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Blossom to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
In the drawer beneath my diary lies a letter, folded small,
It has travelled through the seasons, but it never left the hall.
I wrote it late one evening when my courage burned so high,
Then the morning came with doubtful thoughts and let it wither by.
It says the words I could not speak in the shadow of your smile,
That I have loved you quietly for a long and patient while.
I have rewritten every line, and I have blotted every tear,
And still the ink is wanting for the thing I want you to hear.
Perhaps today I'll seal it and I'll walk it to your door,
For a love kept in a drawer is a love that cannot soar.
And if you laugh, or turn away, or hold me in your arms,
I will know that I was brave enough to trust the heart's alarms.
Poet of Blossom · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
Everyone has a message they never delivered. This poem gives that unsent letter a home in a drawer and then lets the speaker decide whether to carry it to the door.
In a drawer “lies a letter, folded small” that “never left the hall.” It was written when “courage burned so high,” but morning brought “doubtful thoughts.” The letter says what the speaker could not say, “that I have loved you quietly for a long and patient while.”
The speaker has “rewritten every line” and “blotted every tear,” yet the ink still wants for the right words. The poem turns hopeful when the speaker thinks, “Perhaps today I’ll seal it.” Whether the answer is a laugh or an embrace, the speaker will know that they were “brave enough to trust the heart’s alarms.”