Today
With friends
We wandered up
A steep cobbled road
That was canopied by trees.
We happened to a wooded park
Where poetry was pressed into the stones.
You would have loved it there, and noticed
How the world was speaking with you.
Noticed through the air that those
Flowers my friends had
Called lavender, were
Just rosemary,
blooming.

She waltzed in wearing lavender -

not the bruised blue hue of dried buds,

but the soft, delicate shade that makes you forget

poison can be pastel

and alive.

The cerulean seas of her eyes

surveyed me with a crocodilian smirk

an undertow ready to clench and drag

for its own amusement

She smiled like silk,

shiny, delicate, costly

as she handed me a cedar latched spice box.

Inside

red cords, scissors

pressed flowers so fragile they'd shatter

with a whisper

and a single letter sprinkled

with cayenne

sealed with red lipstick

too heavy to open.

"Time doesn't belong to you," She whispered

like it was a flirtation

like my hours were hers

to unwrap

to discard

She kissed my questioning forehead

soft, sealing, dismissive,

answered nothing

just reached for my hands

with perfectly manicured cold fingers

I gasped awake

my mouth full of cinnamon

dry and hot

a goodbye I didn't choose caught in my throat

that I prayed I'd never have to speak.

She's reappeared now and again

in the corners of mirrors,

fond of the elevator's reflective surround

and the hammered copper coffee jar

that stays open like a lifeline.

always twirling her ashen ringlets

waiting? warning?

When I glimpse her, I open the lace covered windows

and let the sun reclaim the shadows -

until even her perfume forgets my name.

Hold me close when I am tired
and my eyes are heavy with sorrow,
we will heal our souls in wrapping each
other warmly in a lavender blanket while
watching the rain, drinking tea and
getting lost in falling stars, I was a
stranger until I opened the heart to
love, our fated silhouettes become
one dream come alive, for you are not
beside but rather a part of my eyes.

To witness the entire world bathed in a single hue—  
I must have been battling for ages, confined to the realm
of purple through these battered, violet eyes. Yet, I found
myself dreaming—gently; amidst a sea of blossoms that
blanket the earth, soft carpets for my tender feet; the
fragrant embrace of lavender.  

So intoxicating was the scent that the deeper I ventured,  
the more it constricted my throat, stifled by the words  
I longed to voice. I wander through lavender dreams—
bewildered and lost; forever searching for a tangible end to
this reverie.  I leap, I tumble, I labour, and I cry out—  
carefully navigating the edges of reality, only to become
ensnared in a daydream.

But aren’t the lavenders as enchanting as her gaze; a girl I
yearned to love, though our time together was fleeting.

We never shared that vision of a wedding day adorned  
with lavender blooms, yet still, I hold onto the dream  
where I walk in dreams of lavender.

Under the moon's soft, silvery glow,
A white spider weaves its porcelain thread,
Amidst lavender blooms that gently sway,
In the night's tender breath, delicately spread.

Elegant limbs trace a whispered dance,
Across petals that dream of the Lethe's serene flow,
A river of forgetting, where old sorrows fade,
Yet here, in this garden, memories gently grow.

Each movement is a testament to nature's grace,
In the lavender's embrace, a tranquil romance,
Where time pauses, and the heart finds rest,
As the white spider spins its eternal trance.

© fey (20/07/24)

'Green blue of the sky
heated white-hot'
Vincent saw, what we could not
captured through an artists eye
he put aside his pain
to give us fields of lavender
and glorious scented rain