Perhaps
it was intended
that I walk
alone.
Perhaps
there is none
who can feel
song
and sun
and colour
and sweetness
of hay
and
honey,
as I.
Perhaps
one greygreen autumn day
a rugged stranger
will,
with silent footfall,
and respect
for forest creatures,
come wandering
through
the green mists
of my garden trees
and
perhaps
we will understand
each other,
and
perhaps
not.
(1991)
Diana van den Berg
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alone-449/
