13 Saturday Nov 2021
Tags
life, longing, love, memory, remains of another day, seasons, time, truth, what we keep
how far
from Spring to wander
I can scarce
recall perfumes –
wafts of honeysuckle
sacred vine
days beneath the sun
echoes of another
spilled into
a morning
just as this
boughs already emptied
tho memory persists
wherever now our secrets
fill the wind
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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❤