In Repose

Our dreams may offer some solace, a respite from some sadness. Or they may play out that memory in some strange and vague form that crystalizes the moment we awake. In any event, the unwanted memory always returns. A Lotus flower rising above a sea of green and blue at daybreak tells this story. But there is something inherently sad in the way it lists toward the light.

She rises from her slumber

Upon a misty bed of green.

Her petals softly spread

A burst of color in her dream.

But her quiet eyes admit

That the memory lingers still.

Her slim leafy heart opens

A soul weeps its silent will.

She shakes those bright pink petals

To dislodge those final dreams.

Soon she slips from nature’s bed

A flower rising, or so it seems.

Her limbs reaching forward

Her stem a slender arch.

Then her entire flower quivers

A sudden shiver on the march.

When, moment of moments sigh

She turns a dew dropped face to me.

I see her sad fading smile

For a love not meant to be.