For The Memory
Your tops on the line hanging down
Swaying gently in the coolness of breeze
The evening comes in its violet gown
Darkening the lawn and the leaves
You turned on the light, it reflects outside
The pot that stands close to the house
Is illuminated most brightly tonight
I see all its rims and the flowers
Are stretching up high, maybe sensing the moon
If it can look out of the cloud
The air spreads magical smells in the bloom
Cicadas are chirping aloud
I think at the end of an August it was,
Last year, when you opened the door
And photoed your garden for me, just because
I asked you the same day, before.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
