The Black House A Childhood Memory
The house was unpainted, and I told my teacher it was black.
In the black house where memories reside,
Middle childhood days of carefree delight,
Warm sunbeams upon sweet shrubs at our side,
A haven where no worries in sight.
Laughter echoes in the summer air,
Our innocence and joy intertwined,
Down where the sweet shrub blooms so fair
In the heart of youth, pure and refined.
Oh, how I long for those days gone by,
When time moved slowly, and troubles were few,
Golden hours spent under unspoiled blue sky,
In that sacred place where dreams could come true.
So let us cherish those memories dear,
Of the black house, where love was near.
once again
memories
of sweet shrub
quietly imposes
its luscious scent
red to rust
blossoms
open upon
Carolina allspice
memories flood
the old homeplace
deep in the woods
with you sharing secrets
In the ethereal grace of twilight
at the court of flowering grove
under the radiance of moonlit night,
Recall, on my knees I vowed my love
cooing like a docile mourning dove.
In the soft breeze swaying and dancing
the branches of the majestic oak tree
rustling their leaves and sweeping
the fragrance of sweet shrub free
a mood of mystical ecstasy on me.
But with mischief in your enticing eyes,
On your luscious lips a beguiling smile
you escaped from me like lover’s sighs
Abandoning me like a foggy haunted isle,
Lo! I am woebegone by thy heartless wile.
~Contest: "L" Lament Poetry
~Sponsor: Constance La France.
~08/08/2015
~English Quintain contest by Francine Roberts.
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