Thistles

My heart is stirred by memories the tune of song or still of pic asking if I would commit again seeking what brought me to that place. Why would I want to bring it back from the realm of yesterday the pain, the angst, the loneliness that came with love I thought I had? There must have been a reason then cause to want to twist the frames flesh to mold, one to the other seeking heat to meet to the chill. Laughter echoes in recollection smiles set with rectus grins statues set in memory's grave rapport gone, reflection tainted. Don't take this for condemnation the joy was pure inside each moment just as the wounds were inflicted accompaniment to past relating. Now I wonder if roads could reverse clocks rewound to seek the pleasure thickets lure with heart's reflection when the thistles surround the flowers © 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170405.