Memory, Don't Let Go(Original Poetry)
Lovers like sea
sons
come and go
waking up
(curled)
in bed left alone
is nothing new,
it soon gets old.
.
Newborn rosebuds pucker
outside my window
sweet peeping stalkers
windblown. They dance
and dreams
blow through us, fountains
flowing with fantasies
of futures
woe freely,
only falling
when contentedly spent.
.
Breezilly brushing
lips
against the screen
this must be
spring's first kiss
reaching out to
draw me, in close.
-
JAY
Thanks for reading! Words are mine.
Roses from Pixabay. Logo gifted by Papa Pepper
Since I didn't add in a note about this one like usual, I'm going to do it in a comment instead.
I wrote this when I was young and innocent, it's mainly fictional ideas purely based on seeing the morning roses. Seems like I write about roses a lot, because they always show up in my life surrounding me. So trite, right?
It's a flower of choice through generations of my family, for special occasion gifts we plant a new bush instead of dying boquets. Whenever we move, we take some along to put our old roots into the new home's ground. Every grand daughter had one to go from their great grandmother's farm, and so on. My parents had a tradition of planting new ones each year on their anniversary, they've started doing lovely Rose of Sharons more recently. Now I want to add new pictures, this gets too long. OOPS!
Also I managed to hit the 100% steem button finally, kept meaning to and missing it for some reason, so YAY!
That's a lovely back story to your poem. I also keep missing that 100% button. I'm trying to make a resolution now, to try to check the box before I even fill in the tags.
Thanks! Oh good, it's not just me then.. maybe I can feel less silly about missing that button. I thought once you chose it that it looked like it would save that choice for the next post, but I guess I was wrong on that one. Gotta remember every time.