The rose of love withered on the vine In lifeless disposition she'd remain Her syrupy nectar slowly did decline A bewailing sorrow in ending twain No recapture of a past happiness The petals perished browning to dark Disappearing elation's gleefulness A flower's heart minus her loving spark Without the touch of fondness on the bloom Her brilliant brightness faded well away Those wondrous days were replaced by gloom Sombre melancholy of saddest pall's shay As dusk's hour turns to the dying closeness Reflect on the rose's mood of dimness
Your tender words caress my face and seep into my skin. Soft soliloquies, quiet rhymes, rhythmic patterns, they swirl in my mind and are painted behind my eyelids while I sleep or as I think of you and smile. The whisper of your fingertips reminds me of the brush of your pen and the tumultuous emotion from each word brought forth from your mind. Your poems of love impart a sweet nostalgic ache for the passion I'd never felt until your words flooded my thoughts and allowed deeply seeded flowers to grow into a full bloom.
And I think maybe it is not you I fell for, but the sweet, sweet, song you sing.
Started 2/26/2021, finished 4/1/2021 I like the last verse but I don't know how I feel about the rest.
The wonders of Springtime Whisk me away. The glisten of raindrops So freshly they lay. The chirping of birds, Sweet songs do they sing. With echoes of laughter They joyfully ring. A newness of life As sprouts start to bloom. A colorful sight! Ridding Winter's dark gloom. The magic of flowers Stretching up toward the sky. Green grass all around them, The aromas sublime. The buzzing of bees Hum happy and free. In fields of wildflowers, What a sight to be seen! The wonders of Springtime Fill me with bliss! Naught a happier sight To be seen than this!