2017 04 12
The blood-red velvet petals of frail flowers
against gray rugged lichen-plastered stones
perforates my heart with strange memory
that entwines my mind with rays of sunlight.
I remember how I found girl I love
alone on wind-swept meadow by the sea,
so I approached with eager loving smile,
but from my ardorous hope for true love
she fled on wings of wind to grove of trees
and disappeared in shadow of despair.
Silver wind wallops my soul with regret
of broke flower stalks twitching in stark sun rays.
She turns away, eyes hidden by long hair,
when ache of desire erupts from my heart
and I shout like gusting wind to express
hope to hold her hand, but my blustered words
mangle intent with clatter of gray stones.
I feel sweet love beaming out from my eyes,
but she must see hideous monster of lust
to flee from my face, so I turn away
and see red flowers blooming among stones.
I talk to glamorous ghost of her face,
explaining to frail flowers among hard stones
what I meant to say to express my love,
but when I blink the vision of her eyes
vanishes in glare of sunlight on soil.
Silver wind swirls around my throbbing head
that swells from anguish bulging from my heart
so I kneel and peer close at the red flower.
I see the whole world of contending nations
in the buzzing wings of the honey bee
that flits and floats to collect pollen puffs,
so I follow its flight to rotting oak
where honey pours thick as liquid sunlight.
Empires of kings and presidents may rise
and fall in world-shattering waves of power,
but blood-red flower blooming amid stones
preserves my heart anchored to turning world.