Least not the warmth, spring tides bloom,
With winter storms, swept falls broom.
Under carpets, of grassy sway.
Bringing our hearts another day.
As the glistening sun, shines the flower tips.
The eyes of morn, whispers from her lips.
As each of us yawn, to drink the day.
And the birds sing our minds away.
Let the spring stay forever.
As I solemnly remember,
Those lost and lonely days.
Of sauntering walks, and playing under skies of grey.
For moments before a rising storm.
The crystal crack of lightning born.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 27th, 2025 09:43
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
Offline)
Comments2
Seasonal memories of days gone bye in this poem leave a wistful feeling. Very nice
Your poem beautifully captures the contrast between spring's warmth and winter's lingering echoes. The imagery of nature's rebirth and stormy memories feels vivid and heartfelt. A touching reflection on renewal and remembrance.
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