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The path led to rose bushes cul de sac.
Early in the morning, we sat down to rest.
Dewdrops are still shining on the track.
At our feet, a swarm of ladybugs, deft. 
Petrichor arose as the July rains left us back.

A strain expressing your clumsy affection.
Tune into your breathing and heartbeat.
This is a dreamy time for such passion.
Flog love is bound to the cul-de-sac part. 
It is essential to preserve buried emotion.

This curvy, icy nook is set in a helix maze.
Poetry and syncopation reignite the fire.
Even talking may be risky at night phase. 
Shut the door if you wish to quell desire.
Light should be veiled by a smoky haze.

Platonic ties might be a bottomless sack.
Lyricism, zeal, and merit are key factors.
The outcome of love, then, is not a cul-de-sac.
if these are quickly obfuscating actors.
Intending that love is the sweetest shack

A full moon glides through winter dreams.
The cul-de-sac ice rink is nearing its end.
Facing reality while reminiscing streams.
Droplets seize their will to settle and wend. 
Twilight moon shines with merry schemes.

Ashen-faced friends slow-motion blast.
In the cul-de-sac, the lovely house fades.
Sleeping flies swirl the remaining cast.
My cup is filled with an autumn shade.
Affinity seems to be a shackle of fact.

Only going out mattered, for a brief time.
Spring equinox has just been drenched.
Paddle a boat through the azure, sublime
The skeletons' soliloquy was quenched.
Without other elements, this is grime.

The lake thawed as the ice started to glow.
for the goal of exposing the ostentatious.
Cut on a slant, with a glimmer of a rainbow,
As my mother would say, you are gracious.
This is not how you wish your child to grow.

That desolate road cul-de-sac of shame.
I imagine the life I'd lead there as a coward.
Swans, a lake house, and a child on tame. 
The tourmaline-dazzling wisteria has soured.
Parents were overjoyed to view the game.

1st place contest winner

Written: February 02, 2023

This Or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
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