Myrtle
It was at our gate
A tree the bloomed white rose
And bore velvet leaf
That type of thing that makes a child believe in fate
I mean the sweet scented kind
Like a woman's skin covered in oil
One day I stood there again
Long after my father fell asleep
Leaving me like an abandoned child
My heart was cloyed with grief
And like a child I weep
For love I had taken for granted
Was gone
The fence had fallen too
And I was forgotten
At the forgotten gate
Where the myrtle rose grew.
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.
