Sunday, April 21, 2013

Flowers Die Slowly

At the top of the hill I waited and watched for you
My eyes peered down a light brown path
Hugged by splintering trees and bright green leaves
Trodden over by thousands of searching souls

I was watching so intently that the sense of sound left me
Like a single 4 x 6 photo blown up in front of me
I heard no feathered animal singing it's beautiful song
No cricket rubbing it's legs like a fine tuned violin

I did not hear the leaves clapping their hands
or the beating of my impatient heart
I could not even hear the breath through my lips
For I realize now my breathing had ceased

You could never hear my internal deliberations
Intentions are born in the mind
Secret signs unknown to the outside world
That I held so delicately for you

More delicate than the soft pedals of a dying flower
That fall away peacefully, preciously, and pleasurably
Like a three syllable haiku
Flawlessly constructed with time

My entirety waited conspicuously
My heart flittered generously
My breath stopped unconsciously
Time ticked away incessantly

You walked away from me delicately
Like the soft pedals of a dying flower
Slowly, shallowly, successfully




No comments:

Post a Comment