Nothing remains the same
upon your leaving,
with emptiness pervading all
in place of laughter.
The candlelight that lit our morning and my night
has melted to its pith,
silvery mosaic pieces mirroring us in wax to make
our keepsakes.
Changed irreversibly, it is its own
memorial.
Yellow flowers,
fresh at the week's waxing,
dry on their stems,
slowly withering
as we flourish.
Xiphoid blades of light fought for entry through shutters,
pining to shut out the world.
Returning realities force them open now.
But all is not lost:
quickly time will run its course,
expediting passion's meeting. Not the same, but better.
Kingdoms of
love are what hold us together and house
veritable havens.
Jonquils adorn our memories always;
glimmering and giving, and
zoning us into wherever the other one is.
First three Chapters....
15 years ago
3 comments:
A powerful tale in verse here.
Beautiful poem, Bianca. I love how you started every line with a different letter of the alphabet, as if having thrown them up like confetti then placing them with intention. This struck me: "Xiphoid blades of light fought for entry through shutters,
pining to shut out the world." Thank you. xoA
Beautiful abecedarian. I especially love the "yellow flowers" stanza.
~Annie
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