The birth...

The birth...

I feel it beckoning in the fresh blush of a dawn,
In the frenzied scramble of a noon going right,
In the camaraderie of an enchanted sundown,
In the pitch-black silence of a tranquil night..

I feel it glistening in the dew on an April bloom,
In the glittering green trees of a full July forest,
In the filling of senses from October leaf hues,
In the sparkle of snow on a December cold fest..

I feel it shimmer in the luxury of velvety softness,
In the sting of humid water against frosty skin,
In the bite of the chill seeping from the ground,
In the content of a rest for the weariness within..

I feel it taunting in the relish of a tempting aroma,
In the savour of eats delighting palate and soul,
In the haunting composition of a cherished melody,
In the serene visuals that make the being whole..

I feel it summoning in a painter's masterpiece,
In the intriguing intensity of a writer's pining tales,
In the inspiration from a poet's meaningful verse,
In the perspiration oozing out of a sculpture's details..

I feel it gleaming in the simple trust of innocence,
In the twinkle of eyes up to some naughty guile,
In the affection that doesn't waver come what may,
In the pride of triumph accompanying a joyous smile..

I feel it pulsing in the sighs of a cozy embrace,
In the unspoken words of hands held together,
In the enamoured moments full of tender murmurs,
In the longing of a heartbeat to beat with another..

I feel it lurking in the depth of my overzealous brain,
In the cognizant tremble of my nostalgic heart.
I feel it begin, blossom, exaggerate and explode,
An immature idea of a poem at its earliest start.