An early bloom has split the air
With the subtle scent of azalea
And jessamine, the fragrance
Of a youth lost
Between the vines of honeysuckle
That suffocated the boardwalk.
I remember the night we last
Sat together beneath the summer sky,
And the purple torrents that crept,
Like death, ever closer.
We used to watch them and wonder
If the drops would reach out to kiss
Our troubled heads, or if the wind
Would blow them south to Savannah
Like lost balloons.
And when we walked out
Onto the dock to watch the reds swirl
Just beneath the salt marsh skin,
We saw Hydra rise to the surface
And swallow the day as easily
As time swallows an instant.
But the dark never bothered you-
No, you seemed to prefer it,
At least to the flashes of lightning
That oft slipped between the evening clouds.
But this winter bloom, soon, will fade
Leaving nothing left for May,
And only these memories of life
And love will last.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
An early bloom has split the air
With the subtle scent of azalea
And jessamine, the fragrance
Of a youth lost
Between the vines of honeysuckle
That suffocated the boardwalk.
I remember the night we last
Sat together beneath the summer sky,
And the purple torrents that crept,
Like death, ever closer.
We used to watch them and wonder
If the drops would reach out to kiss
Our troubled heads, or if the wind
Would blow them south to Savannah
Like lost balloons.
And when we walked out
Onto the dock to watch the reds swirl
Just beneath the salt marsh skin,
We saw Hydra rise to the surface
And swallow the day as easily
As time swallows an instant.
But the dark never bothered you-
No, you seemed to prefer it,
At least to the flashes of lightning
That oft slipped between the evening clouds.
But this winter bloom, soon, will fade
Leaving nothing left for May,
And only these memories of life
And love will last.
