Long past the prime of blossoming spring rose.
Past, more, the sweet, fine scent its wilting bloom;
Tight clench of bud in spheres, in May still closed
June! Peonies display celestial plume.
The life span of the floral bed of spring
Lasts mere a breath then droops; petals a-ground.
Late blooming spheres just woke—fresh, light, smelling
Fragrant; beauty all summer-long abound.
I was once hermitted within my heart
Fearful, tearful, timid, wounded, forlorn
I gave one my love, my first—Now apart
Would I have more within? Was my soul shorn?
“My Peony, you’ve not used all your best;
Once opened up your art spills forth endless.”
-- JTG
1 comment:
Juliet- I love it. We have shared endless phone calls, letters, and emails over the years... and despite the loss of your very dear friend... I am seeing a beautiful, deep side to you that isn't afraid to be raw and vulnerable--- love has left it's mark on you.
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