Beyond the Whispers
Poem
By Jim Gandolf
©️09242026WMA
Beneath the North Shore pines where shadows lean,
A house stands watching on the lake’s edge, green.
They whispered of a witch behind the door,
A creature born of rumors and old lore,
Who kept her secrets hidden in the trees,
Her name swept up in Milwaukee's chill breeze.
Yet where the myth proclaimed a darker soul,
Was just a quiet hearth that art made whole.
No wicked spells were cast upon the land
Just gentle beauty shaped by human hand.
Intricate sculptures framed the garden grass,
Reflecting light like sun upon clear glass,
And vibrant artwork spoke of life and care,
Breathed softly into the Lake Michigan air.
I met her on a day now years gone by,
Under the arch of an open, pale-blue sky.
No black-draped specter from a campfire tale,
Just a kind spirit where the waters sail
A lover of the earth, of honest food,
Who found in natural things a grounded mood.
Where others saw a legend wrapped in fear,
I found a quiet truth standing clear.
We spoke as time slowed down along the shore,
And all the hollow stories mattered no more.
The rhythm of the waves against the sand
Brought a serene comfort across the land.
A perfect atmosphere, soft and deep,
Where restless minds could finally fall asleep.
In her peaceful yard, beside the rising foam,
I found a moment that felt like home.
Jim Gandolf
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