Poem -
Blossoms
On the tree the blossomsĀ
Don't last long.
Every other year they're saidĀ
To be spoken for---
Each of the blossoms a woman.
We are each of us
Birds seperated from them.
Ā
Tops of cars bleached by sun.
The suction of his glass
Sticks to the countertop when he picks
His drink up.
The blossoms for this year are done.
They exist only all-year-round
In the hearts of the young.
Ā
To us, they are ephemeral.
They're red wattles, the realĀ
First Australians.
In the drafts watch them use to sway.
See today how the disappearenceĀ
Of the women moveĀ
The birds away.
Like 3 Pin it 0
Support CosmoFunnel.com
You can help support the upkeep of CosmoFunnel.com via PayPal.
Comments
Hello Rory...
They can do that...
They know they're welcomed here...
Great write!
Thank you for sharing...
sparrowsong
Ā
A tribal dance perhaps,Ā a very visual peaceful read, beautifully reflective. š¹ šøĀ
To me this is almost like a lament for love
as if the narrator feels lost as to where he might find love... or something like that. Some killer random lines aa usual which I've come to love in your work. X
Alas, what would a lament be if the protagonist wasn't drowning his sorrows?