You collected poems, long left behind,
finding beauty in the quiet and unseen,
gathering moments like treasures,
holding them gently,
each one a secret waiting to be shared.
Your hands turned the earth,
gathering poems from the soil,
each blossom a verse of quiet joy.
In the opening petals, you saw
more than flowers, you saw stories,
and kept them as gently as seeds.
Along paths lined with sunlit trees,
you listened to the streams,
collecting the songs they carried.
Through the roar of each waterfall,
You heard the whispered lines,
and in the shimmer of light on water,
you found poems written by nature itself.
Among the shelves thick with books,
you searched for words like fallen leaves,
gathering them, as if each story
was waiting to be found by you.
In the stillness between pages,
you discovered quiet truths, pressed like
memories.
When the air turned crisp and still,
you gathered us close,
our laughter, the verses you cherished most.
Your love was a poem, quiet but sure,
written in every touch, every smile,
guiding us through the longest nights.
Now I am the collector,
of the poems you left behind.
In the blooms, the streams, the stories,
and the love you gave so freely,
I carry them with me,
through every season still to come.
Tony Perkins was a resident of the Pinewood Neighborhood who sadly passed away a couple of years ago. He loved reading and collecting children’s literature, as well as nature, gardening, and being with his wonderful family. Here is a beautiful poem written about him by his grandson.
Special thanks to Jim Strickland at the Pinewood Neighbor for sharing this with us.