Whatever I Know to be True
Chartreuse willows softly sway
in my memories...
Summertime June's
sunlit tapestries.
Shadows therein, hide
life's harshest realities
of inflicted pain.
Yet, straightforward oak's
heart...
like a good Cabernet,
offers comfort,
absorbs sorrow via
recycled rain.
Then it's true...when end
meets beginning...
I'm with you.
Today's list of 12 words to include in a poem for Sunday Swirl- I managed a short, short story, albeit subdued.
Flames had taken all she knew;
there were no discerning borders drawn
Only her identity
was not lost in the fire
Charred pieces of past joys littered the way
as she crossed the intersection where LOVE
meets the street of DREAMS
She built a shelter out of tiny match sticks,
saw a child looking for her doll,
no doubt swept away in the wind
and rain that came after
and quenched the fire
Lives polarized randomly by disaster's scorn,
she found herself tending to others
till fear subsided and calm restored
Selfless she helped at the time of most need,
and swept the ashes
and broken glass into oblivion
Without anyone to cling to now,
she stayed with strangers
In the spring she planted rows of seeds
in the lot where nothing else stood,
in hopes poseys would grow -
only a child herself, finally,
she bent her head and sobbed
For The Sunday Swirl, my first time contributing to this site
with words provided by Brenda...thought I'd give it a try today -
Her conjured spirit lifts as grape scented smoke;
gifts of trinkets sit upon the wood mantle -
neglected dust rises
Humble servant she, saves golden curls
in her pocket, collects ethereal messages
Wandering into the back garden,
bending to smell the flowers,
twining their stems gently in her fingers
till they snap,
she lays them in her maiden's cap;
All things she rests near a robin's new nest,
and as in lifetimes before she sighs -
for it's the first day of spring
