A memory of life, paper-thin leaf
of a dead season, carried on cosmic winds,
glittering dust, across the universe.
It swirls in unexpected orbit,
settles in the green and damp of blue
and brilliance, golden light and silver
and unfolds a rose a ruby flower
beneath the watchful eye of another
Couldn’t resist having another look at Ronovan’s prompt. Here is a trio for the collection.
Many years growing
the child unfolds, rose petals
each new day brings hope.
Each year the roses
their perfumed flowers unfold
a new joy each one.
New life rises—spring
dancing in the wind—year’s end
spear points pierce cold ground.
Standing on the edge of this world,
On the edge of this time with you,
Balancing on the cusp, will I fall?
Or will I sprout wings,
Soft grey and pure white,
And fly to the world beyond the sunset,
Where pain and sorrow sink into the gulf,
And only the pure, soft grey-white feathers remain?