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The Pressed Rose
(a collaboration with Dilly Dally, great fun, thank you)
Lost as the night wraps its ebony shades
round red lips like the petals on roses unfurled;
in the mist, the soft crimson of beckoning smiles
leave me hopeless to shun a temptation like this.
Watching eyes in the dark now hang in the air,
mouths smothered in silence, are untouched and alone
~ through the fog, mute impressions choke a voice that was mine
before sliding to sleep in a vulnerable dream...
In the air, like the scent, of a fresh blooming rose
drifts the musk, like a bee to the pollen I'm drawn,
so...in willing surrender, I contentedly fall,
though beware of the thorns and the danger they pose.
Wide awake in my dream
the night lingers ~ trapped in place,
'til I once again fall and surrender my will
~ restless dreams, tangled thoughts,
stems stinging with fears.
What sweet peril we chase
through the gardens of dreams,
drowning in tears for what might have been
left forgotten and pressed in the pages of time...
Copyright ©
Craig Cornish
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