Lilies

There was a time when we picked those lilies. You don’t quite remember when, but I surely do. The mid-summer sun kept the fields warm, And caressed the phlox as it slow-danced to the breeze. And the light held on to our eyelashes As if it needed them, pleaded for their existence, Like a child with the eyes of a butcher And the smile of a poet, In need of shelter And love And attention. We danced to that Indian summer- Little did we know that it was our last. And our laughter, filling the heavens, With our present and our past Echoed throughout. Seeping, consuming, lingering, Echoing even louder at the touch of our hands. Little did I know that life would grab you away, Borrow you for a dance and Never give you back. Little did I know that this purple phlox- Where lively things flourished to our company Would crack and break Like a twig fooled by the storm. And now all that remains of you and I And our dreams, lives, past, future, beginning, end, Ambitions, and existence Is this place – So bittersweet Grotesque yet beautiful Captivating An ant stuck in Baltic amber Worn in a necklace around my chest Where my heart is a cave And it’s cold and it’s dark. And there’s nothing left but these lilies Which laugh and dance to the breeze.