Some authors become my secret friends,
they tame my mind, catch my attention,
make my thought stream stop and
concentrate on one beautiful point in time
Paul Gallico is one; I read Seven Dolls
whenever life overwhelms me, P. L. Travers
is another saving me from despair through
Mary Poppins. Margery Sharp adds delight
with the voice of Miss Bianca, Lewis Carrol
through Alice in Wonderland,
G.M. Hopkins with Spring and Fall,
Victor Hugo with Demain, dès l’aube,
and lovable McGonagall – when a secret
friend is gone I’m really sad, it is real loss
when authors who used to be my secret
confidantes become strangers, outside the
magic ring of secret friendship, when I can
no longer make their work mine, secretly;
when they leave the pantheon of phantoms
who infuse my life with deeper meaning;
when I can no longer listen for their approach
with delight, knowing they did not intend
their work for me – directing their words to
another audience with different needs, I feel
sad, no more watching eagerly for secret
messages from the authors, I’m made to see
Superconsciousness is not sending coded
messages just for me through the pages of
their books – but in my despair I smile,
I still believe there’s a Special Detective Agency
in the sky, some people call them angels, who
look out just for me, and one day I’ll be with
them when this life is done…
Margaret Alice
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/magic-ring-of-secret-friendship-rev/
