my heart a grave.
where all that spins
a single drop of flesh
deep into an orchard of a scar.
small lives as fresh as sawdust
through messages of midnights silent fall
once brighter than the glass of summers wine.
a child no more.
no secrets in the letters that I write
in foreign tongue of epitaph and scrawl
of living things in crowded halls
where comes an age no wiser than before.
how many wreaths of satin lie in wait?
I see no logic in the single rose that burns
where mother sleeps away her fond farewell.
her heart is now a deeper grave than mine
where all that spins
the single drop of love
be hers until the very end of time;
-
Author:
Melvin James (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 10th, 2024 04:21
- Category: Love
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: Aradhya, Teddy.15.
Offline)
Comments5
I feel all the depth of this magnificent text .
most kind Lorenz
thank you;
Powerful writing. Deep, like the deepest ocean. Beautiful work.
thank you my friend
so very beautiful and tragic, with such great depth, dear poet!
"how many wreaths of satin lie in wait?
I see no logic in the single rose that burns
where mother sleeps away her fond farewell."
so very touching!
thank you for reading Aradhya,
and your most kind words.
Magnificent, and I felt every last word right to the full stop at the end, Kudos my dear Melvin, you brought me right there to my mother's grave side. 🌹
thank you so much Teddy....
sat with her a while today and wrote it for her as we talked.
a beautiful sunny day to share with her.
It's been gorgeous here too. ❤️
Honestly. That's really good. Thank you for sharing.
and thank you for your kind comment
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