The Sun That Parts the Clouds
Through frayed seams a rosy dream bleeds
needled and re-stitched
with threads of time and love and hope..
and still — a rosy dream bleeds
the miscarriage of a promised rose garden
leaving me bereft but for entwined bands of gold –
contemplative thorns tempt my angst
moony moody barbs bristle twigs of tenderness
sigh— it’s not a laurel wreath worn atop my brow
as I sit alone with a squeamish friend
my blue-sky-to-storm-cloud introspection —
as your distant eyes deserted mine long ago
Winter's beast laid bare a cerebral graveyard
lost you wander amongst laid-to-rest neurons
worn headstones of thoughts and laughter and memories…
you wonder why they hide — why they died
the crackle of cognitive circuitry quiets
branched-lightning fades from unwitting clouds
and aged roots of reality perish
our red rose finished fallen to pieces
you-and-me-petals a messy heap like old potpourri —
yet in dark’s hush love’s scent lingers on our dream pillow
Oh nostalgic sepals embrace me!
my heart yearns to return to the bud
to the fullness of our June bloom —
instead, I bury desires beneath life’s litterfall;
amid pollenless stamens and leaves of one-sided reveries
and cage my fear my despair behind purple thistle facing the light
as I free a smile for you, my love —
you my sun that still parts the rain-bearing nimbus
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