Waiting for springtime
Elegance, love, sympathy
Any occasion.
Piano music plays.
Soft notes emote mid air,
like tear-stung doves they fly
in atmosphere of fog.
The clouds, they shroud the sky.
Piano music plays,
the keys, they seize my blues—
the depth of blue, so vast.
Poetic ivories
caressed, recite the past.
Piano music plays.
Dull echoes haunt the halls,
sonatas without soul.
Since wick and flame lost light
my world as dark as coal.
Piano music plays,
the white noise like a ghost.
My fluid fingers mourn
these melodies of you—
black thorns on rose reborn.
You call me a flower
But what kind?
Is it a yellow tulip? A cluster of warm sunshine and happiness?
Or maybe a Lily of the Valley? The tears I’ve shed for you made into delicate little milky white blossoms
Each petal carefully watered by the streams of water that run down my cheeks
Or am I an Aster? A small star, made from Astrea’s tears, so small and insignificant compared to the shining, sparkling gems that light up the night sky. Looking up at those ethereal jewels, never being enough. No wonder Astrea cried, I would’ve cried too.
Or am I a White Lily? My innocence and purity once so clean, as white as snow now forever tainted with your darkness. A dark, unremovable mark on the alabastrine flower, that will stay, no matter how much I try to get rid of it.
Life’s cyclic existence from death to rebirth
best understood this season of burgeoning.
Flora, as Phoenix, rises from the sodden earth
in graceful flourish of death unburdening
itself with fritillaries flashing its worth
and earning its illustrious guerdoning.
Season of bursting verdant new beginnings.
Showy production of clever Spring’s winnings.
Bold lilies and crocus burst in brilliance,
anticipating full Spring’s warming sunlight,
with yellow, white, and purple resilience
from wintry soil in Spring’s comforting delight.
The signals of Winter and Spring consilience,
ground covered in a kaleidoscopic sight.
Winter behind, Spring eagerly looks forward,
charges persistently with ebullience onward.
We were apart..
You had taken your own journey
I had taken mine..
We remain apart..
Moments..
Hours..
Days .
Weeks..
Months..
Years
Upon every waking hour..
I reminese and ponder..
When our beating hearts were one..
A Single White Lily
Held in my hand
There it stood..
A representation of our deep love
A beautiful lily..
Signified our connection
Had yearned for your warm embrace..
Many restless nights..
I imagine your soft caresses..
Your sweet kisses..
All captured in my mind..
When a camera captures a photo..
Frozen in time..
A Single White Lily..
Frozen times of bittersweet memories..
An endurance of heartache so profound..
A Single White Lily..
Held in my hand..
Had felt sad and blue..
As tears had rolled down my cheeks..
A Single tear drop had rolled onto my white lily..
A Single White Lily..
A Single tear drop
The essence of our soulful connection..
Shall always remain..
Though our journeys are far away..
Our soul connection is endless and timeless..
"What kind of flower
Pulls us into the future
And offers us hope?"
She turned away, hid her face,
And softly spoke, "White Lily."
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