Standing By
I see him always standing by,
In the shadows, soon, or late,
When the storm-swept winter sky
Hides the joys for which I wait,
When the sunlight stays my sigh,
Always—he is standing by.
Anna M. Johnson
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Poems
Close-Pressed
If I could press you to my heart just once,
Just for a moment let you lie close-pressed
As flowers within a book
Lie pressed between its leaves,
Then you would stay within my memory,
Where I could see your face, your every look,
And hold the imprint that my heart so weaves
Of all I thought I could not thus renounce.
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