Sunday, January 22


The moon rises in the east,
just like the sun
to whom it may concern
reflections have begun.

I wish you could visit me here again
after you left your wild flowers
gathered on a common pasture,
dried up now, colors still imbued
and life goes faster and faster
we build our own towers
but will they ever sustain?

Now, it is not about moon and flowers
we tend to survive by will and fate
which lies in our heart, a fragile gate

Love is like a broken arrow buried in your flesh
you know it is there, but it is beyond rescue
the whole web of things these days will test you
it is time to escape this mesh

Love is like a Big Mac from MacDonald's
you taste one slice, then you discover number two
will and heart combined
isn't it fascinating?
you will just have to bite through.

I wish you could visit me here again,
after wild flowers have dried
I certainly have tried
but I am still in pain.


Cym said...

Zee, great poem and great picture.

I read Faust, First Part, for the first time in my life this past week, followed by the Prophet by Kahlil Gibran (not the first time), and am more attuned to poetry than I have been for awhile.

I feel like your poem speaks to me in some way, maybe the reference to wildflowers. Either way, poetry and pictures are always a welcomed blog post.

Hope all is well with you.

susan said...

There's beauty in the mystery of bittersweet memories. Your poem and photograph suit my own mood.